To Call Her Crazy
by Dazela
Summary: Leles, a shrimp of a girl with a strong head and fire for life, wakes up in a new world and begins her trek across Skyrim. With the help of some newly made friends and the Dragonborn, she will set out to find that falling into the harsh Nord world of her video game was no mere coincidence. Every reader appreciated! Enjoy!
1. Waking Nightmare

**Authors Note!**

I am quite aware that this is a trite and overused plot line but I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. **Shame I decided to start out with another Helgen chapter, but stick around! It get's better I promise c:**

I really do appreciate anyone who reads this story and gives criticism. I've decided that it's wonderful practice and would very much help my English and writing skills for school.

I just hope to keep any readers entertained and I apologize in advanced for my grammatical mistakes!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Waking Nightmare**

Something was awfully wrong about my bedroom tonight. My bed, while not the softest, was certainly never this hard. Had I left the window open last night before falling asleep A whistle of wind pushed my hair over my face, shielding my unopened eyes. The scent of pine and juniper drifted under my nose. Since when had August ever been this chilly? Then I heard it: The creak of old wooden wheels over rough terrain, pulled along by the trot of hooves on soil. Before I could fully process the information my senses had taken in, I was tossed onto the floor of the rolling contraption as it hit a rock on the road.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake."

_It's not possible…_

_That accent, those words…_

My body lay face down spread out over the moldy carriage floor. Slowly, I lifted my head from the floor to gaze in front of me. At least the first sight of the world I had been tossed into was welcoming: Boots, caked in what appeared to blood and dirt, maybe … feces.

_No, this isn't reality…_

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there"

I didn't have to look up to know who he was referring to.

_This was Skyrim…my video game…_

"Damn you Stormcloacks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy…" The thief spoke.

_No..no..no…_

"You there!" The horse thief grumbled, nudging at my foot. "You look too young to be a Stormcloak. You and me- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

_Ah yes, I'm caught in between the war between the rebel army of Skyrim and the Empire of Tamriel._

I curled myself into a ball and slid up against the back of the carriage as we proceeded downhill. I refused to look up until everything around me was quiet and I was back at home in my bed. The man who introduced himself as Ralof and the horse thief continued their banter back and forth while the wind nipped at my exposed skin. The horses slowed their pace as we entered the stone gate of Helgen. Villagers whispered between one another and hushed the curious children. An Imperial Captain barked orders to her subordinate and soon the smell of smoke mingled with the smell of blood… fresh blood.

_This is a game…a dream…I know how it plays out and I am not going to die_

Despite the reassurance I gave myself, the pace of my heart quickened dramatically and I could feel my skin beginning to collect the moist droplets of sweat in pools under my clothes. I listened from my ball on the ground as the opening scene carried on. Maybe the Dragon born was on the cart the time! The whole story was about to play out flawlessly and my life would surely be spared.

But if not… one thing was certain. I was not about to let myself die here within the cold stone walls of Helgen. I was not the legendary hero, Dragonborn, I couldn't be. I was not even from Nirn.

My thoughts were swiftly cut off as roughly calloused hands grasped my ankles and pulled me off the end of the cart. I cried out in pain before I was silenced. My knees cracked against the loosely paved stones, even louder than the crash of my head as my body fell forward.

* * *

The majority of the sky was overcast, a gloomy grey. The wind continued to envelop my body in a harsh, cold embrace. I winced as a pair of hands guided my body onto its feet.

"We aren't killing the prisoners straight out of the cart, Dunius. Let the headsman do his job." The less authoritative voice belonged to the man currently stabilizing me. His grip was strong yet delicate, as though if he squeezed my arm any tighter it might shatter. I whipped my head back to face the cart only to find it empty. Instead, the prisoners now stood surrounding a chopping block in a pool of blood and scattered hay. Behind the Nord in front of me, Hadvar as he was named, I could see the crumpled body of the horse thief, arrows protruding from his back and legs.

"Who are you?" Hadvar asked with a puzzled look on his face as he glanced back and forth between his papers and me.

I stood frozen in my spot. My mouth tasted of blood and dirt. Tangles of chestnut hair waved about my face.

"Speak, Nord." The woman on his right demanded, arms confidently folded across her chest.

"Nord?" I repeated, recoiling in genuine surprise. Was this woman blind? I was 5'4" and not even 100 pounds. I looked as much a Nord as a twig does a tree trunk.

Hadvar mumbled, flipping through the numerous pages of his list. I gazed to my left, wrists twisting and pulling at the ropes binding them. General Tullius, commander of the Imperial army paced in front of the collection of prisoners. Both men from my cart, minus the horse thief, stood tall. I recognized the rebel leader, Ulfric Stormcloak, whom General Tullius now stood in front of. From the roll of Ulfric's eyes, I could tell General Tullius was now lecturing him on his capture for his crimes of treasony. I watched as the headsman leaned against his stubby leg propped on the chopping block. He spat on the ground in front of the prisoners, eyeing them as his gut spilled over the fur belt of his trousers. I shivered in my place, whimpering as the wind blew on my bare arms.

"What should we do? There is no one left on the list." Hadvar noted without breaking contact with the paper in his hands.

_I'll make it out…if I time it just right Alduin will arrive and I'll be running free_

"Forget the list. She goes to the block!" The woman insisted.

I stood rooted in place, mostly because I was not looking forward to the possibility of walking myself to my death, but also because my veins were beginning to turn to ice.

Hadvar pushed on my shoulders.

"Follow the Captain, prisoner. This will all be over soon."

Several bodies already littered the ground before me. The headsman's axe was painted with a fresh coat of blood. Both Ralof and Ulfric stood next to me. I noted that I hadn't heard Alduin's call yet.

"Next prisoner!" The Captain called beckoning me with a wave of her steel gauntlets.

_Here goes…_

A shriek split the sky. I wanted to vomit my innards onto the floor.

"There it is again," Hadvar mentioned, turning his view to the sky "Did you hear that?"

_Did I miss the first cries? Was I out cold? Is this happening too fast?_

I attempted to stall, simply staring at the imperial woman who was growing increasingly agitated by my behavior. Perhaps I could pretend I didn't speak Cyrodilic.

"I said next prisoner!" I continued to stare at the Captain until a soldier pushed me forward and I began my slow saunter toward the chopping block.

Unable to protest, I dropped to my knees.

_This is it. I will not let myself die._

I sorely lowered my head, pressing my cheek into the pool of warm blood. The executioner raised his axe. A droplet of blood began its descent towards my forehead. Behind the executioner, I saw him. The silhouette of the ancient winged reptile danced across the grey sky. Several soldiers, Stormcloak and imperial, screamed at the sight of the dragon as it perched atop the tower. I squeezed my eyes shut, awaiting Alduin's freeing roar.

* * *

The shout sent me rolling over the chopping block and onto the body of a headless Stormcloak. My ears were ringing and my arms were convulsing. My eyes opened to a blurry view of balls of fire pouring from the sky. The sky bled a sickening red hue and the scent of burned flesh consumed the air. The towers and houses of Helgen shattered as if made of glass. The villagers cries rivaled that of the crashing buildings. A few soldiers sank to their knees praying to the 8 divines; some were begging for forgiveness from all 9.

Shakily, I climbed to my feet. I knew my path. I spun in circles searching for Ralof. His bulky frame straddled the doorway of a crumbling tower.

"Come on! This way!" He crouched lower upon recognizing me and desperately motioned for me to enter the building.

Ralof shut the door behind us, as though it might preserve us from the nightmare outside. A dead stormcloak lay at Ulfric's feet. In my best attempt to avoid the two, I sprinted to the base of the stairs as far away from the door as possible. Ralof and Ulfric exchanged words with the other two stormcloaks in the room. Through all the shock and continuous pounding of the collapsing buildings, nobody noticed as I purged the contents of my stomach in the corner, only stopping to gag and wipe at the tears pooling in my eyes.

A soldier ran ahead of me, disappearing into the spiral up stairs. Ralof sliced through my binding ropes with the dagger of a dead soldier. Ulfric and Ralof followed him, tugging at my arms to join them.

"Wait! Stop!" I cried, desperately pulling at Ralof's arm to save him from the death awaiting him at the top of the stairs. I dragged him down a step and fall to the hard stones, screaming.

"Are you mad girl!" Ulfric snarled at me. "We've got to get moving! We can't stay here!"

Just ahead, a soldier smashed against the opposite wall as Alduin blew the wall in, hurling chunks of stone through the tower. Ulfric let out a deep shout as another stormcloak crumpled beside him. He whipped around to face me, eyes struck with horror and facial expression identical to Ralof's.

"How could you possibly…" I shake my head and bear crawl up the steps, past the two Nords.

"There is an Inn just across the way" I step onto the edge of the newly made opening and grip the sharp edges. I stare straight across. Unnatural swirling clouds obscure the view of the snow-capped mountain ranges. Thick smoke rising from the dying town blocks the view of the surrounding forest. I turn to face the two remaining stormcloaks once more as I prepare for a painful landing. Their mouths were still open and their blue eyes probed every movement of my limbs. "Jump across and make your way to the keep. Don't wait up." With a deep breath, I threw myself onto the lower building, singing my hair upon the burning straw roof. My upperbody landed on the burning ceiling beam, forcing all the air out of my lungs as my legs dangled in the air. I held on to the crackling wood but the weight of my body forced the beam down, throwing me onto my back.

_Video game, dream, whatever…it all hurts like reality._

Scrambling to my feet, I dropped from the collapsing second floor of the Inn and onto the fiery Helgen ground.

I don't recognize where I am. Everything is moving far too quickly. To my left a young buy is engulfed in flames and to my right, his mother's head is pinned to a dead horse by the red hot shrapnel of an iron blade. I continue through the maze of half-houses and burning carts until I'm shoved between a chest plate and a wooden wall.

"Still alive prisoner?" Hadvar shook me by my shoulders and roughly lifted my chin, inspecting for fatal wounds. I let out a squeak from his touch and nodded my head. The brown and sooty tangles of my hair have become blood-crusted mats by now. "Keep with me if you want to stay that way."

A young boy raced across the vacant lot from an alley across the way. Hadvar immediately called to him, beckoning him to safety and abruptly roaring into my ear. As soon as he released me I sprinted toward the alleyway. I know there are only seconds before Alduin comes and squashes me. Hadvar raced after me but the shadow of the looming dragon stops him in his tracks. Instead, he grabed hold of the young boy, and pulled him behind the wall before Alduin can deliver another fiery breath.

I raced to the edge of town, only stopping when villagers and soldiers dropped dead in my path. Ahead of me stood what was once the keep. Hadvar and Ralof spot me running towards the entrance and follow in my lead. They stop upon reaching middle ground.

"Ralof you damn traitor. Stay out of our way." Hadvar grinds his teeth. The sword in his hand is as sharp as his stare.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You can't stop us this time." Ralof said. His eyes follow as I continue to run past them and disappear behind the keep doors.


	2. The Keep

**Chapter 2: The Keep**

After securing the straps of some leather boots, I fastened the sheath of a steel dagger around my belt. I didn't bother with the trunks of armor. I didn't want to be recognized as Imperial or Stormcloak, knowing that I would have to face both on my escape from the keep.

_Hadvar should be entering the keep at any minute._

I pull on the chain triggering the gate to open and again, run toward the exit. Two Stormcloak soldiers stood in the next chamber holding each other tightly.

"This changes everything, Ulrar, don't you understand. They have returned to Skyrim. First the Empire and now Dragons!" The woman buried her face into the man's neck, allowing a few blubbery gasps to escape.

"Ulfric will know what this means. He will know what to do." The man reassured her while running his bloodied fingers through her ash covered hair.

I pressed myself against the shadows along the wall. Both gates to the circular chamber were closed. I scrunched my face and pressed my hands over my mouth, suppressing the urge to scream. I was still very much a child in her teenage years. There was no way in oblivion that I could dream of taking on two fully armed soldiers. My pulse was racing and I had to move quickly. I didn't want to be caught in between Hadvar and two Stormcloaks.

"I…I'm a friend of Ralof!" I threw my hands up and entered through the metal gate in front of me. Either the reason was legitimate enough or I must have looked as completely harmless and vulnerable as I felt because the two simply nodded and threw the iron key for me.

The sound of battle from the execution room was unmistakable. The smell of burning electrical circuits and blood filled the air. I had to move fast if I wanted to keep my life in that room. The torturer and his assistant were heavily distracted by the Stormcloaks swinging their axes and hammers back and forth. Merely scraping by steel and bolts of lightning cast by the imperial, I managed to grab the knapsack on the table as well as a small handful of gold coin. I shuffled through the crowd of Stormcloaks in the cavernous depths of the keep. In all honesty, I truly hoped that Hadvar would make it through, but if not, I knew that the soldiers would clear out the frostbite spiders that wait ahead.

I sat near the flowing river of the cavern, rinsing my face and washing my hands in the crisp water. I slumped against the cold rocks and allowed myself a brief rest from the straining realizations of my surrounding.

_I__** am**__ here in Skyrim…the game, the province, the…_

* * *

"Good, you've awaken." I groggily tossed my head side to side, testing my new aches and pains.

" Now is not quite the time for beauty sleep." I opened my eyes to Hadvar's outstretched hand. I was still in the cavern. Great.

"Did the Stormcloaks..." Hadvar turned to face the path from which he came. The entrance had caved in. "Did they…touch you?"

I ignored his question and straightened what was left of my tattered clothing.

"You did that?" I peered around him.

"Not alone, no" Hadvar turned me by my shoulders towards the tunnel continuing deeper into the keep. His hands stuck to my skin as the blood began to dry. I followed the trail up his arm to fresh slices in his arm. "It'd be best if we keep moving."

The tunnel walls glistened with trickling water. The torches were barren, lifeless and I continued to shiver as violently as I did outside.

"I thought you could make use of this" Hadvar held up a bundle of blue fabric. Unfolding my arms, I picked up the weathered bundle and let the fabric fall loose. I recognized the pattern of the novice robes and smiled at the burly Nord.

"You don't need to put it on right now" he said breaking my stare. "Just keep yourself warm."

"Thank you, Hadvar." I replied with the same smile, wrapping the cloth around my shoulders. "I'm sorry I couldn't have been of much help."

We continued further until he stopped me at a sloping entrance while a river ran beside it.

"We better try this way." He motioned toward the darkness.

Cobwebs glistened with tiny drops of dew. Desiccated corpses of both human and small animal decorated the ground. He cocked his head toward the opposite end of the cave. I grabbed his arm and pointed upward at the dangling spiders.

"Take this," He whispered, handing me a long bow and a quiver of arrows. "I hope you can shoot straight."

I slipped the leather strap over my neck and tested the bowstring. The sinew was tough and required an effort to pull. Hadvar shot first, ripping through the exoskeleton of the hanging spider. It crashed to the far, green blood oozing out from the wound. I aimed my bow at a spider on the ground. I tried to follow the arrow as it grazed the back of the spider but as I heard a muffled _thud, _I guessed it had landed into a spider sac. Hadvar had missed my less than extraordinary display of marksmen skills. He was preoccupied with the remaining spiders as he hacked at their limbs with his sword. Occasionally, he would cry out in pain as the spiders picked at his open wounds. I frantically shot arrows at the spiders in the opposite, hoping that they would somehow lodge into a spiders abdomen instead of ricocheting off the wall.

I shot the last of my arrows, one of which successfully pierced one of the many eyes of the nearest arachnid.

_1 out of 8._

I didn't sound so pathetic when I put it that way.

"Almost there."

Although there was blood dripping off his fingertips, he continued through the cave across the river. I followed swiftly and cry out as I watched him slip on a rock in the stream. The commotion awakened the slumbering bear nearby and Hadvar scrambled to his feet once again. The brown mass didn't acknowledge my presence and rushed Hadvar who blocked the bear's first blow. With its back turned to me, I griped my bow only to reach into an empty quiver. Hadvar managed a few strikes and slashes before crying out in a godawful shriek of pain. As the Nord crumpled to the floor I dropped my bow and grasped the hilt of my dagger. With only seconds before the bear remembers I'm in the room, I leaped onto its coarse fur and sink the dagger into the top of his skull. The bear threw me into the stream as it stood onto its feet with a hoarse groan. Seconds later it fell lifeless, onto it's back.

I ran to the side of the still man on the floor and dropped next to him, holding his bleeding arm in my view. Black poison crawled up his vein, branching out like the gildergreen of Whiterun. He cringed as I pulled on the flap of loose skin.

"Ah… We've… Were very close.."

"No, shh. Don't move or it will spread faster" I hush him, pressing him back to the ground. "I have something for that."

I brought my knapsack to my knees and pulled out a small red bottle. I dripped 5 droplets onto his wound before lifting his head up to drink the rest.

"You won't be of much use to anyone without an arm."

I return his head to the floor and he shuts his eyes. Due to all of blood and carnage we just encountered, perhaps he wanted to rest himself before the trek to Riverwood. Or perhaps, due to all the blood and carnage, he was just out cold. I watched the rise and fall of his chest and decided that regardless, I wouldn't mind a rest either.


	3. A Stranger in Skyrim

**Chapter 3: A Stranger in Skyrim**

Although I was certainly no mountain man, I spent a great deal of my life outside, hunting and exploring in the wilderness with my older relatives on our farm. I was generally confident in my sense of time back home but here in Skyrim, guessing when sunrise would hit was literally a shot in the dark.

I poked my head out of the tight cavern exit. Stars dotted the deep purple sky and a fresh layer of snow crunched beneath my feet. Several hours must have passed since we escaped the burning town. Alduin flew overhead, tail swaying in the trail of smoke

Again, I returned to Hadvar's side. His eyes were still closed. A deep wrinkle was set over his brow and every so often, his lips quivered. I turned his arm upward to see how much damage was left. The once black veins of his arm have returned to a healthy blue, barely visible underneath his thick pale skin. I fished another small bottle out of my bag, this time a health potion. Pulling off the cork, I applied the thin liquid directly to his open wound, hoping it would work directly so I didn't have to wake him. I dig through my bag, searching for something to dress the wound. My hand touched the stiff fabric of the robe Hadvar gave me. I reached for my dagger, still sticky with bear blood. I sliced through the bottom of the robe and continued to tear away the rest of the bottom. After dressing Hadvar's wounds and rechecking his breathing signs, I exited the cave for the last time.

I pulled the remainder of the tattered robe over my head and smoothed it across my legs. Makeshift snowflakes of ash from the Helgen fires drifted onto the path in front of me. Aside from the lone torchbug that buzzed through the air, I was alone.

The icy Skyrim winds were much more bearable inside of my robe. The scent of pine danced in the air, attempting to over throw the reminiscences of smoke. Above the mountain ahead, small rays of orange and yellow broke the dark sky. As I proceeded down the mountain road, the sound of the churning river grew louder.

I wanted to enjoy the solitude. My surroundings were after all, breathtaking but, so was the whole of the situation I was in. I was trapped in this beautiful nightmare where any minute a dragon or bear might rush upon me and claw me to pieces. Even the elk grazing near the river bed could be deadly. Perhaps I get to close and he pounds me to mash?

Further up the road I could make out the shape of three large stones.

_Standing stones. More accurately, the Guardian stones._

I approached them cautiously, making sure I came in no contact. I could hardly swing an axe if my life depended on it so no matter how much the warrior stone could help me, it would come into no use. The mages stone was simply out of the question given that I didn't know how to cast my way out of a paper bag. The only benefit of my pathetically puny physique was that I could move silently with ease. The thief stone was the only reasonable choice I could think of. Once I could decipher there etching and engravements, I placed my hand to the thief stone. A green light encircled the perimeter of my hand, growing larger and larger until a beam pf light shot through the clouds above. A tingling sensation spread throughout my body, even after I returned my hand to my side.

* * *

The sun had made a clear appearance in the blue sky as Riverwood finally came into view. As I closed in on the small town, a hooded figure emerged from a house, throwing a glance to each side before continuing down the steps and heading toward the exit of town. I quickened my pace. The character wasn't one I had ever remembered seeing in Riverwood before.

_He shouldn't be here… _

Soon I began to jog, eager to catch the tall figure that quickly turned on the edge town. My jog became a sprint as I passed the town entrance and the confused guards on watch.

_Had I forgotten something? Had I changed the game?_

"Wait!" I cried out, raising an arm with hopes to catch his attention. The figure stood on the bridge and turned to me, face shadowed by the overhanging hood. "Please…"

A blow to my whole body knocked me down to the paved road. I picked myself up onto my hands and knees and looked towards the bridge but the figure was now gone.

"Whoa, lass! I'm sorry! I didn't mean any harm" Ralof stood before me, shaking like a leaf. He held his hand out to help me up but as soon as I grabbed it I slipped back to floor again. "I just…I recognized you from Helgen. I had to …"

"It's fine, really. I'm so glad you're home safe." Without any warning, Ralof pulled me up into a tight embrace, squeezing the air from my lungs. His stubble scraped my face before I slid down into his chest. The warmth of his body reminded me how I had just barely escaped my death and how alone I was again. I pressed my ear to his chest and listened as his heart raced just as mine. With tears building in my eyes, I gladly returned his hug.

* * *

"My, my. By the time I finish with all of your hair the water will be cold!" Gerdur chirped, combing through the tangles of my wet sooty hair. "Most women don't even grow their hair past their shoulders here in Skyrim."

"I can see how it's more convenient that way" I admitted, cringing as the blonde Nord pulled at a knot in my hair. "Really, this isn't necessary. You're kind enough to allow me to stay."

"Oh, don't worry. You looked and smelled like a beggar when you walked in and in all honesty, I've always wanted to play big sister." Gerdur smiled. I leaned my head back into the bowl as she poured water to rinse the last of the ash out of my brown locks. "The dress on the bed is for you. I'll let you wash yourself and change. Then we'll expect you for dinner. Ralof already told us of Helgen so you need not retell of such a tragedy." Gerdur turned to the fire pit of her house and continued to stir the pot hanging on the spit.

It was hard to believe the towel in my hand was once white after I finished washing. I slipped into the red and white dress and gave Gerdur my approval to let Ralof and Hod back inside.

"Ralof, please," Gerdur scolded as her brother shoveled a forkful of salmon into his mouth. "Wait till we are all seated."

Ralof sat at the end of the long table across from Gerdur. I took the seat closest to him.

"So tell us," Gerdur began, passing me a loaf of bread. "I don't believe you've told any of us your name."

I gave my plate a good long stare.

"Come Lass. It can't be that bad." Ralof gave my shoulder a small nudge.

"Leles." I said softly, staring everyone in the eye. "It's Leles."

"Hmm…" Came a small murmur from Hod, sipping from his tankard of mead. "Your tall for a young Breton."

"I am not a Breton." I laughed automatically, stabbing a cooked carrot. My smile dropped instantly as I gazed up to see everyone's eyes on me.

_Stupid… A French name, of course._

"Not a Redguard?" I shook my head. My skin wasn't quite that dark. Hod put his fork down and rested his chin on his fist. "No? From where do you hail?"

"Cyrodiil," I smiled again at the three Nords, forgetting for a moment that I sat amongst Stormcloaks. "An Imperial, just a dull Imperial." I cursed myself again. I knew absolutely nothing of Cyrodiil since the Oblivion crisis. I prayed they didn't question me further.

"Oh and which part?" Gerdur inquired. Perhaps they wished to know where my loyalties lied.

"In truth," I began, placing my fork down and smiling as cheerfully as I could. "My parents moved me from Cyrodiil at a very young age. They didn't want to raise me around such politics. I moved with my grandparents to a farm far into the Abecean sea, closer to Hammerfell really." A half truth, I suppose.

"Mhm…" Gerdur stared at Ralof across the table. The stare made me feel uneasy in my chair.

"That man you were chasing when I ran into you," Ralof coughed, goat leg in hand, "What is he to you?"

I stopped chewing and whipped my head to face him.

"Do you know him?"

"Not a clue. Who was he?"

"A stranger," I speared a thin potato "That's why I was chasing him."


	4. The Lone Archer

**A/N: **Just want to shot out to all those who follow the story. Thank you, guys! I get so happy whenever I get a notification of a new fav/follow/review.

Special thanks to FrostyDaHomeboy for reviewing my chapters and giving me the title of Chapter 3! I'm so grateful to have someone reading and reviewing in my early stages of writing!

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Lone Archer**

"Rise and shine cub. It's only 3 o'clock." I squinted my eyes to see Ralofs blonde locks dangling above my face. I smiled at him in between yawns and eye rubbing.

"You really shouldn't let me use Frodnar's bed. I may never wakeup." I stretched my arms above my head and placed them beside me as I raised my torso off the pillow.

"To be honest, I think he is excited to have someone new around." Ralof took my hand and helped me onto the cold stone floor. "Care to take a look around town?"

I nodded my head. I was thrilled to see how lively every character was in reality. Each attribute from the game was amplified in person. They were as real as I was, which made reflecting on Helgen's destruction rather nauseating.

"I can manage on my own. You're going to need your rest." I stepped in front of Ralof and turned him to the bed. "I know that you're leaving soon."

"How? How could you possibly know?" He questioned, seating himself on the bed.

"You're a good soldier. A brave fighter." I ran my hand down the side of his bearded face. "I know you could never leave them. You want to go back."

I left the small house, tossing feed to the chickens in the front yard. If I was going to stay here for the time being, I might as well make myself useful.

Unfortunately, the first person I came in contact with was Sven, a thin wiry Nord with a bulbous ego who stood in the street arguing with his elderly mother. He eyed me suspiciously, realizing I was knew to Riverwood.

"Good afternoon, Nord. Lovely clear blue skies today." I curtsied, plucking a thistle branch and placing it in my satchel.

Sven scoffed and rolled his eyes.

_No surprise there._

"Lovely you say? The sun is too bright. The wind reeks of smoke. The river is far too cold for bathing . I'm surrounded by imbeciles around the clock. That bloody elf Faendal thinks he can woo Camila Valerius away from me." Sven grumbled. I raised my eyebrows at him. For such a lovely day, he sure knew how to sour the atmosphere. "She's already mine I keep telling him." Sven kicked at a stone on the ground, eyes piercing the back of Faendal's head as he stepped off into the woods past the town entrance.

"You and Faendal both like the same girl?" I asked although I already knew my answer.

"Camila Valerius knows I'm the best man in Riverwood. That elf is kidding himself if he thinks she would choose him over me." I watched as his eyes drooped toward a small dandelion patch across the road. His shoulders sank as he leaned against the wooden fence of his house. "I've seen him sneaking over the Riverwood Trader when I'm not around. He's wasting his time."

"Yes," I smirked, leaning next to him on the fence. "Two people spending time together never blossoms into courtship."

"Is that sarcasm?" He recoiled in revolt. "I've heard better wisecracks from Orgnar"

I shrugged my shoulders and turned to continue up the road.

"Wait," he sighed. "Still, you have a point. Camilla letting Faendal visit her isn't a very good thing for me." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded parchment.

_This man is pathetic How long he been planning this?_

"Here, let me give you a particularly venomous letter saying it's from Faendal." He handed the letter to me with a sickening smile. That should stop Camilla Valerius from inviting the elf over."

"I'll keep this in mind." I announced, giving the letter a small wave in his face.

I sat on the river bank across from Riverwood for what seemed like hours, tossing flower petals and stones into the rapid current. The water sparkled like sapphire under the receding sun. Mudcrabs scurried across the opposite shore and snapped at a passing river betty. I sighed, leaning against the tree trunk on my right and reflecting on my current situation once more.

I had no talents that were applicable to this world. I had no gun to hunt or defend myself with. All of my knowledge of flora and fauna was irrelevant to this terrain. My agility, endurance, and training in acrobatics could only carry me so far. I desperately wanted to work and help Gedur and Hod, especially as a way to thank them for their hospitality. Perhaps I could bake them a pie or make dinner. I was very confident in my culinary skills since that was always my duty at home. I pressed off the ground and got to my feet, starting toward the bridge and on my way to what was now my temporary home.

A shaking in the bush behind me caught my attention. It sounded like a small animal searching for food. Slowly, I crawled to the bush on my hands and knees. Dirt smeared across my dress but I didn't care. I had entered hunting mode. A large black and white rabbit emerged from his hiding place, twitching its pink nose and chewing on what appeared to be a root. A dozen recipes raced through my head upon spotting the bunny: Saddle of Hare in Dill Sauce, Tea-Smoked Rabbit, Rabbit Tamales, Lapin a La Cocotte, and the simple Rabbit Pot Pie.

_Heh, looks like I found dinner._

I closed in the rabbit, crawling slower and slower until it took off down the road and bolted into the surrounding trees. I took off after it, knowing that if I found its hole I could return later. I crouched behind a fallen log and slowly peered over. The rabbit stood with his nose flickering in the air, probably sniffing for me. I sat down again and picked up a large stone nearby. I crawled toward the end of the log and peered around the uplifted roots. The rabbit had slowly began its hop toward home, turning his white tail to my face.

_Perfect._

I threw the rock, hitting the rabbit with a raucous crack. I hopped over the log to see what damage I had caused. The poor rabbit lay twitching on the soil. I cringed. The pain was obvious in his beady brown eyes. I struck its head with another rock. Its whole body was at rest this time.

"Keep that up and perhaps one day you'll crack a mudcrabs shell." A voice chuckled from behind a tree. I gasped, realizing I had not been alone all that time. A Bosmer stepped out toward me, returning the bow to his back.

"Actually, I can crack dragon skulls with this arm." I beamed, picking up the rabbit by its two bloody ears.

"Regardless, you killed it before I did." He laughed again. "You must be the new one they've been talking about in town. I'm Faendal" He announced, patting me on the back. "Nice throw."

I cracked a big smile and followed after him

"Leles. It's a pleasure to meet you. Camilla says you are a wonderful archer."

He paused and smiled.

"Camila is an intelligent and beautiful woman. Sven thinks his ballads and sonnets are going to convince Camilla Valerius to marry him." He chuckled again but I could sense an underlying insecurity. "A woman like her wouldn't fall for his nonsense… I hope."

"Sven wanted me to give a letter to Camilla saying it was from you." Faendal whirled himself to face me, brows furrowed in anger.

"What is that blowhard up to now? So, he thinks he can turn Camilla against me? Two can…"

"There's no need." I interrupted as I waved my hand at him and giggled. "Sven is a big oaf. I already told Camilla of his plan."

Faendal's eyes widened and his once angry frown turned back into the cheery smile it once was.

"I don't know what to say. Thank you!" He reached into his pocket and took out a small pouch of coins. "Please, take this. Some gold I've saved up from working at the mill."

I added the coins to my own small pile. It wasn't much but it was more than enough to buy the ingredients for a hearty supper.

"If you ever get tired of throwing rocks around, I can train you in archery." Faendal added as we neared the bridge heading back to town.

"I think I could make use of that talent." I confessed.

We continued walking together until we reached the Inn where they sold fresh vegetables and spices.

"So tell me Faendal, how do you feel about Rabbit Pie?"


	5. A Dragonborn Comes

**Chapter 5: A Dragonborn comes**

"Easy, easy on the bowstring. If that hits you, it's going to welt."

I slowly withdrew the string of the old hunting bow Faendal gave me and wiped a bead of sweat from my brow.

"That mudcrab isn't going anywhere." I concluded, watching as it pulled a young salmon apart. "I'm taking a break."

Faendal set his bow and quiver against a tall rock. He climbed up and then offered me his hand, pulling me up to his side.

"I can't believe this is what your life is like every day." I mused, gazing at the snowcapped mountains in front of us as they reached far past the clouds.

"I couldn't imagine living without the comfort of the forest." Faendal layed against the rock inhaling the fresh pine air. A pine thrush sang from her nest on the nearby tree while a hawk circled the sky above.

"I know what you mean." I sighed, picking at the moist green moss by my legs. "My family wanted to bring me out of the countryside, back to the city to study where they said I belonged." I squinted my eyes at the mudcrab shoveling a sheet of scales into its mouth and smiled. "But I couldn't let anyone take me back." The memories of my family that began to surface were not pleasant.

"And that's how you ended up in Skyrim!" Faendal piped with an open mouth grin.

I shot him a confused stare "What?"

"You ran away to Skyrim, right?"

"Wow!" I cried out in happiness. That story was far more plausible than any of the ones I had brewed in my head. "You hit the nail right on the head!"

I was thankful for the story Faendal had given me. Now I didn't need to tell anyone that I was kidnapped by trolls or escaping spriggan prison.

"Well there's certainly more to you than meets the eye." Faendal placed his hand on mine on mine and smiled. His deep brown eyes were so glassy they reflected my own. "I would have taken you for one of those Bretons who spent all their time in the city archives."

I closed my eye and laughed. "I'm not a Breton."

In order to divert any questions, I pulled a pastry out of my knapsack.

"Are those the apple dumplings you made last night?" Faendal asked, eyes glued to the confection in my hands.

I passed it to him and pulled out another. We basked in the sun eating our lunch, listening to the river as it washed up on the shore.

* * *

When Ralof told us he was leaving for Windhelm two weeks ago, the mood of the house changed. Frodnar and I clung to him, scared to lose one of our closest friends. Gerdur was proud of him, but a gloom began to overtake her and I'd often find her sulking in the garden on early dewy mornings. Dinner at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Hod became little more than sitting and ignoring Hod's attempts at flirting while he ripped the flesh off a goat leg. Occasionally Frodnar would joke around and put bugs in our soup or tell stories of how he found a dragon egg in the chicken coop. Hod thought his boy was bloody brilliant. Gerdur was not amused. Personally, I preferred his dog, Stump.

Once the dishes were washed and leftovers were given to Stump, Hod set to work cleaning his blade.

"Looks a little dull, don't you think?" I asked, pouring a cup of milk for Frodnar who sat on his bed reading.

"Aye, I'll have to see Alvor in the tomorrow about getting it sharpened." I looked up from the counter I had begun to wipe down. "Open a bottle of mead for me will you?"

"I can do it. I'll take it to Alvor in the morning." I insisted.

"You sure you can do it, lass?" Hod cautioned as he approached me. I nodded and grabbed and empty cup. Hod placed his hand over mine as I opened the milk jug again and winked. "It's an awfully large sword."

"Ewww!" Frodnar shrieked, grabbing his cup of milk from the counter. "Papa, you're too old for her!"

Gerdur entered wiping her hands on her dress, followed by Stump who wagged his tail and let his tongue roll out.

"Not again, Hod." She shook her head. "Leave the poor girls alone."

"I'm a lumberjack, Gerdur. I like sturdy trunks!"

Frodnar wrinkled his nose in disgust while I let out a hearty chuckle.

Gerdur smiled at me. "Pour me a glass of wine, dear. It's been a long day."

"Why don't you pour one for yourself too?" Hod gave me a toothy grin.

I handed the goblet to Gerdur. She took a seat next to her husband and slapped his knee. Ralof swiped a bottle of mead off the counter. "Give it a rest, old man."

I poured myself a cup of milk. "I'm really not one for alcoholic beverages."

"Well," Bellowed Ralof. "Nobody had you confused for a Nord."

* * *

Gerdur, like usual, was up before anyone else in the house. On the table in front of her was a basket of eggs and a bag of potatoes. She stood staring at the table with her hands on her hips.

"Leles, tell me which sounds better: Boiled eggs and venison or potato and venison hash?"

"You know," I yawned, unbraiding my hair. "I think Hod and Ralof could eat both in one sitting."

Gerdur smiled at me and wrung her hands. I slipped out from under my blankets.

"But Frodnar is so picky at this age. Please choose?"

I straightened my dress and retied the laces of the corset in front.

"Potato and Venison Hash." I smiled. I picked up Hod's sword which was wrapped in old linen and tied with yarn. "Don't wait up for me. I'm going to leave this with Alvor and pick it up after I go hunting with Faendal."

She nodded to me as I slipped the sword strap onto my back. I exited the house and tossed feed to the chickens like I did every morning. The weight of the greatsword pulled hard on my shoulders. Hod was certainly right when he told me his sword was very err… large.

The morning was grey with low hanging clouds. Dew collected on the thistle bush in front of Hilde's house. Sven was on his way to the Inn. He sneered as me as he passed while I snuffed right back in his face. Before I had even reached the steps of the workshop I heard the grinding stone. Alvor had started his work early today.

_How lucky._ I grinned.

"Good Morning, Alvor of Riverwood!" I approached him, lifting the sword off my back. Alvor wiped large string of sweat off his forehead and turned in his seat to face me.

Good morning to you Leles, friend of Hadvar." Soot lined the contours and wrinkles of his face. His eyelids drooped and dark bags presented themselves under his eyes.

"Early morning?" I asked.

Alvor shook his head, his dark blonde locks splashing tiny beads of sweat.

"More like an endless day." He wiped his hands down his face, tugging his skin along.

"What?" I exclaimed in awe, placing the sword on his crafting bench. "You never went to sleep? Why?"

Alvor closed his eyes, enjoying his small break.

"You didn't hear about the…"

"Another dragon attacked!" I held onto the wooden pole for support. I was not prepared for another Helgen.

"No, Gods, nothing of the sort."

I ran my fingers through my hair, waiting for his explanation.

"Jarl Balgruff of Whiterun has finally sent aid to Riverwood following the report of Helgen. They arrived last night. I've been sharpening guards blades ever since."

"How did he find out?" I looked to the left. Swords were lined up along the wooden fence.

_Poor Alvor._

"You should be asking who he found out from."

"Okay." I folded my arms, once again awaiting an explanation.

"However strange you may be," He began, pressing the sword to the grindstone once again. "You were not the first stranger to arrive in Riverwood since Helgen's destruction."

I sat on the floor, listening as Alvor began the retelling of Hadvar's story.

"Hadvar told me he met someone in the keep before he came across you. He made no mention of him? Said he cleared out most of the Stormcloaks in the keep." Alvor stopped his grinding and turned to me.

I shook my head.

"Well, he didn't go into detail." I admitted, vaguely remembering the dead Stormcloaks when I had woken up. The man must have walked right past me when I was sleeping in the keep. And how did he manage to get past the frostbite spiders and the bear without stirring up a ruckus?

"Hadvar told him he had family in Riverwood. Me and Sigrid. Hadvar asked him to tell me of Helgen if he didn't make it out. Well, the man arrived that night and a he was… odd to say in the least. An elf, long and leans and never smiled once. He told us of Helgen, took some supplies, thanked us for out hospitality, and left in the morning before any of us had woken up."

"An elf? Did he have a name? Did he mention where he was going?" My mind was twisted in a knot. Could this man be the Dragonborn? Was he on his way to fulfill his destiny and if so, how far had he gotten in the few weeks that I've been living in Riverwood?"

"Well, lass, everybody has a name. Did he mention it? No. Said he wasn't 'inclined to answering such questions'. The only think I asked of him was to tell Jarl Balgruff of the attack in Helgen. He nodded and said it was the least he could do. Now do I believe him? If the proof wasn't lined up against my workshop, I would have said no."

My heart sank into my stomach where butterflies were now emerging from their chrysalises and taking flight. I replayed the mainquestline in my head.

If the Dragonborn is fulfilling his destiny then eventually, he will need to head for bleak falls barrow. If he returns with the dragon stone successfully, he will trigger a dragon attack on the western watch tower. Once he becomes aware that he is Dragon Born, minions of Alduin will rise from their graves to crush his bones. If dragons begin awakening from their ancient slumber, no one will be safe.


	6. If You Have a Treasure Map

**Chapter 6: If you have a treasure map**

My tidying up of the house seemed to annoy Gerdur at first. Ralof said there was finally room to breathe, Frodnar said he missed the musky smell, and Gerdur was slightly offended that I did a better job than her, which amused Hod none the less.

In the 3 and a half weeks I had been staying with Ralof's family, I managed to learn a lot about myself. Number one was that if I ever managed to get back to Earth, I should probably have a psychological evaluation.

With the help of some old books I did succeed in learning a lot about Skyrim. I managed to successfully identify Skyrim's fish, bugs, and common plants and was eager to learn about more. Thanks to my new found skill, Gerdur's house now had a daily assortment of freshly potted plants and Frodnar had a bug collection in the making. In the early morning, before even Gerdur awakened, I would slip out and hunt near the river. During one unfortunate occurrence when Ralof got lost trying to take a piss, he stumbled upon me collecting river fish in my underwear. I tried to convince him it was just the mead playing tricks with his head but he told me it would be our little secret and that I should be thankful he wasn't Hod.

It was strange how the world of Skyrim seemed to strengthen all of the talents I carried over from home. My hearing and eyesight was much stronger, I picked up on new skills faster than before, and my body was sturdier. Faendal was proud of my improvement in archery. He was surprised when I mentioned that I had never shot an arrow before he taught me.

"I'm shocked." He said, slicing down the belly of the young buck we brought back into his house. "By the way you can follow a track and sneak up on animals I would say you're a natural hunter."

"We do things a little differently back home." I smiled shutting Faendal's door behind me.

He smiled at me as he reached into the open animal to begin removing organs. "I know, I know. With rocks."

I chuckled and shook my head. "We aren't quite as primal as you think. We have weapons you've never heard of."

"Oh yeah," He turned to me, eyes wide in amusement. "Try me."

"I froze and wrinkled my face. "It's… like a stick, a boom stick! It's magical."

"That's ridiculous. No such thing exists and if it did, no one would use it." He shook his head at me and placed the deer's stomach in a bowl.

"It's much more deadly. It's like a lightning staff and it shoots tiny pellets into its prey." I bubbled, replacing the old thistle pot I made him with fresh flowers.

"Where did you say you were from?"

"Faendal," I turned to him, my heart began to race. "There is something I need to do, but there is no way in oblivion that I could do it alone."

I wrung my hands and let out a sharp exhale "I need to go to Bleak Falls Barrow."

"The ancient Nordic tomb?" He pulled his hands out of the animal. Blood dripped from his fingertips onto the floor. "Whatever for? The place is a death trap."

"There is something inside that I really need."

Faendal squinted his eyes at me "Like a treasure?"

"Of sorts, yes." I twirled a brown lock around my index finger.

"You want to go treasure hunting!" He grinned.

"So will you go?" Time was ticking away. If I didn't make a move for that Dragon Stone dragons would start popping up left and right.

"Count me in!" Faendal turned to me and smiled as he slowly pulled a large intestine out of the carcass on the table.

* * *

"I don't know how much you should trust that elf."

"No, Ralf don't say that!" I set my fork down and slumped my shoulders.

Ralof placed his hand over mine. "Leles, I'm just looking out for you."

"And so will Faendal!" I protested.

"I've heard… things about him."

"From who? It better not be…"

Ralof sighed, obviously ashamed. "From Sven."

"Sven," I whined and shook my head. "Not Sven. He's a twat!"

Frodnar chuckled on his soup and Gerdur shot me a dirty look.

"Ralof, we both know you can't come with me. You can't go dungeon diving and then try and head off to Windhelm."

"Leles, I'm trusting Faendal with your life."

I lowered my eyes and grabbed his hand with both of mine. "So am I."


	7. Allies

**Chapter 7: Allies**

Faendal and I left when we were still cloaked in nightfall. Gerdur made us venison pies for the road and Hod gifted us with a bottle of old mead. Ralof asked Faendal to return me alive before squeezing me to a pulp.

"Take care cub, and bring back something shiny." He ran his hand through my ponytail and smoothed my newly crafted fur armor. "You did a good job, you know."

**"**Thanks. Alvor's been teaching me all he knows. I'll make you a parting gift before you leave." I backed away from him and waved goodbye to my makeshift family. Stump and Frodnar walked us to the edge of town. "I'll be back before you know it."

Birds flew from their perches in the trees as Faendal and I stepped off the road. We hopped across the rocks of a small mountain stream and climbed over moist fallen logs infested with bugs. Every once in a while, Faendal would spot a deer and I would have to snap him out of his instinctual hunting trance.

As we ascended the mountain, the change in climate became quite obvious. Speckles of snow melted as they hit my face and the wind threatened to blow me off narrow ledges.

"Bleak falls barrow is this way." Faendal called out. "I'm positive."

"I know." Faendal stared in confusion. "We aren't going that way."

By the time light had broken the night sky, we had reached the base of Bleak Falls Barrow's western entrance.

"Look up there." I pointed. "We need to get to that ledge."

"How do you know anything is up there?"

"You see all these mammoth bones." Large ribcages and tusks littered the ground around us. "This used to be a giant campsite. I recognize it from a book I've been reading."

"What book?" The bosmer narrowed his eyes at me. "I've never heard of this place and I've been in Riverwood for ages."

"It's a very new book, Faendal."

I took the lead as we hugged the walls of the stone mountain. We moved across its width as we reached a flat protruding rock.

"See, just like I said." I smiled and placed my hands on my hips triumphantly.

"You first." Faendal motioned toward the dark mountain entrance.

The inside of the cavern was dimly lit by ancient torches. I figured it was magic that kept the flame alive for so long. A strange altar display caught both of our attention. Mountain flowers and a ring of snowberries surrounded a skull on a pedestal.

"Give me boost." I said, staring at the dirt wall in front of us.

"What?" Faendal echoed, lifting the skull and shrugging before returning it to its place.

"Help me up." I pointed toward the light shining at the top of the plateau.

I stood on Faendal's shoulders and hoisted myself onto the soil above.

"Pass me the weapons and I'll pull you."

Faendal handed me his bow, war axe, and the rusty sword and shovel I asked him to bring. With a running start he managed to grab the edge before I pulled him up with me.

"And now?" he asked staring straight ahead. Nothing but stone wall lay ahead of us. I smiled and picked up the shovel.

"Prepare to be amazed." I boasted as I cracked at the dirt beneath the center of the wall.

Faendal watched as at the bottom of the "wall" began to appear. I continued to shovel until a small tunnel to the other side was visible. I stuck the rusty sword underneath the wall and lifted up the handle. The rock moved upward with a deafening screech. Faendal rushed to my side and together, we lifted the sword again. The blade sank into the dirt on the other side while the rock wall in front of us continued moving upward. Once the opening reached an adequate size, we crawled through.

"Read about that in your book too?" Faendal smirked.

"Something like that."

We continued into the ruins until we came to the main chamber of the sanctum.

"By the twin moons." I quoted. Never could I have imagined this sight to be so breath taking. Bats fluttered as they heard the echo of our footsteps. The cavern smelled of fresh rain and droplets of water echoed from somewhere within the depths. Faendal stared into the jaw dropping interior.

"There it is." I pointed to the tomb near the bottom of the stone stairs in front of us.

Faendal descended down the stone steps first and landed on the fading tile floor. "What do you suppose this is?" He asked, gazing at the curved stone word wall.

"Faendal, ready your bow."

I slowly stepped toward the tomb, expecting a dry corpse to rise at any minute. When I got to the edge of the coffin, nothing had changed.

"Um, help me pry this off first."

We pushed the lid off the coffin to reveal what lay beneath. I expected the corpse to move, hit me in the chest, slash my face but both Faendal and I stared down at the lifeless draugr. The dragonstone lay across its chest.

_Perhaps it only awakens for the dragonborn…_

"Look at these!" Faendal grinned, lifting up a handful of assorted gemstones from the table near the sarcophagus.

I reached down into the coffin and gripped the Dragonstone. Its edges were thick and dug into my skin. As I began to pull the rough stone slab up, two skeletal hands reached up to grab it and pulled it down to the lifeless chest underneath it. I screamed and grabbed the stone again, ripping it from the dead fingertips of the draugr and hurling it into the word wall. The draugr towered over me as he stepped out of the coffin. I raced to the base of the stairs.

"Faendal!" I shouted. The Dragur followed me and inhaled a long breath and released a dragon shot.

The Thu'um sent me hurling into a stone pillar before I landed face first onto the damp soil. I coughed up a mouthful of dirt and blood. My head was ringing and my right arm drooped limp. I grabbed my bow and reached into my quiver of arrows before I let out a shrill scream. My left arm burned and stung whenever I attempted to lift it.

Meanwhile, Faendal and the dragur overlord were running circles around one another. Faendal was missing all his shots in the quickening race. I ran toward the two knowing that the only way Faendal could get a shot was if I distracted the ancient corpse. I approached the dragur while his back was to me. I threw a nearby potion at him which caused no damage but unmistakably aggravated him. I raced around the cavern, making sure to capture the draugr's attention.

The dragur managed to slice my leg as I scrambled to escape its Thu'um "Faendal!" I shouted again, desperation and horror dripping from my lips.

Arrows began flying into the dragur's ribcage and legs. The skeletal corpse had chased me into the word wall. As it drew closer, Faendal shot the last of his arrows and even threw his steel war axe which knocked the dragur to its knees. My heart was pumping out of my chest and with my last burst of adrenaline, I raised the dragonstone over my head and brought it down atop the dragur's head. I let out a piercing shriek before collapsing atop the pile of ancient bones.

* * *

I awakened in the warmth of a crackling fire. My head was throbbing and I spent a great deal of time staring into the dancing flame before I remembered what had happened.

"Faendal! The Dragonstone! We have to go back." I shot up and immediately regretted it. My arm was trembling and extremely warm. I cringed through my teeth at the searing pain.

"Hey, hey. Leles." Faendal dropped an armful of gems onto the ground and lowered me onto my back. "We haven't even left the cavern yet."

I slowly allowed my breathing to return to normal and rolled onto my left side to face the fire.

"Our twice-dead friend over there was quite the hoarder." I commented eyeing the pile of treasure Faendal had accumulated while I was out.

Faendal picked up the dark stone slab. "What price do you think this will fetch? Is this a Nordic language?" The elf scratched at the engravings of the dragonstone.

"No, Faendal!" My eyes widened in panic as I processed his words. "You can't tell anyone about this!"

"What aren't you telling me Leles?" Faendal narrowed his eyes at me. Hurt and anger was printed on his face.

I whimpered and ran my hand through my hair, knowing I had a lot of explaining to do.

"That which is in your hands now, is the Dragonstone. It's an ancient Nordic artifact. The script on the back is written in the tongue of the dragons." I pulled my fur hood over my head and curled up into a ball. All this fighting and running from the truth was making me ill.

"But that must be worth a fortune!" Faendal set the stone down and threw his hands in the air. "What, are you just going to keep it for decoration?"

I tried to pull myself into a smaller ball, hoping that perhaps I could just disappear.

"Leles, you risked both of our lives today. I deserve an answer!"

From my impenetrable ball on the ground I piped up.

"If a certain person gets their hands on that dragonstone, the world as we know it will change. There will be Helgen's happening in every hold." I removed a letter from my boot that I wrote before our arrival. "Until I know that our future is in strong hands, I need to hide this dragonstone."

I stood onto my feet. The wound from the sword opened with each step toward the old dragur's tomb. Faendal gathered his findings and followed behind me. Before replacing the lid of the sarcophagus, I dropped my letter in:

_Drom yol lok Dovahkiin,_

_I have the Dragonstone. I know you're angry but if you kill me you'll never find it. For the sake of your world, try not to die._

_Grahzeymahzin,_

_Your ally._

Faendal let his head hang and shook it back and forth. "I just don't understand, Leles. Who are you and how do you know this?"

I pressed my hand against his shoulder and sighed. "This, Faendal, was not something I read in a book."


	8. Farewell to First Friends

**Chapter 8: Farewell to First Friends**

Faendal and I didn't speak a word on our trek home. I almost wished for a bear to attack us just so we could break the dead silence. I lugged the dragonstone in my knapsack while my right arm rested in a makeshift splint made from old linen wrap. The healing potion I drank mended the bones together but left my arm extremely sore. As we approached our homes, I stopped him.

"Faendal, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know how." I grabbed his calloused hand and dropped my head. Tears glistened in my eyes as I whispered, "Please don't leave me."

Faendal slowly pulled away and began backing up toward his door. "I'm… I need time to think," He scratched his head. "about all of this. I won't tell anyone." Faendal entered his house and turned to me once more. "Just keep me out of it."

The explanation I gave was less than smooth and still, far from the truth. I didn't want to tell him anything about Earth and deny him his own world. In conclusion, I told him I could foresee future events do to knowledge I wasn't supposed to have. He told me I was either a horrible liar or barking mad. Before starting an argument, I decided that I was in no place to disagree.

Faendal had disappeared into his house long ago while I sat outside of the chicken coop drawing lines in the dirt until the receding sun faded behind the mountains. Luna moths hovered in the starlight and a Whiterun guard lit a torch. I didn't want to go back inside of Gerdur's house. I didn't want to be in Riverwood anymore. Ralof was leaving before this coming Loredas and without the company of my best friend or Faendal to hunt with, life in Riverwood would just become monotonous and depressing. Not to mention dangerous. The Dragonborn would be in search of the Dragonstone and bleak falls barrow was only a short journey away from the small town. There was no question that I had to leave Riverwood… and soon.

* * *

"Is everything alright, Leles? Aren't the potatoes cooked?" Gerdur questioned me from her seat at the end of the table.

I pushed my food around and attempted a smile. "Really, everything is fine." I reassured.

Gerdur returned to her meal and lectured Frodnar about why it's incredibly rude to nail a septim to Lucan's doorstep. Hod chuckled and heaved on a potato and Ralof cleared his throat.

"I have an announcement." Ralof and I said in unison. Ralof turned to me

"You first." I blurted out before he could open his mouth.

"I'm leaving for Windhelm in the morning." Ralof gave a toothy grin. Frodnar clapped and mumbled some insult about the empire.

Gerdur smiled and folded her napkin in her lap. "I couldn't be more proud of you, brother."

Ralof took my hand, signaling that it was my turn. I took a deep breath.

"I've decided that I'm leaving Riverwood."

Hod choked on his mead and Gerdur dropped her fork. Ralof stopped playing with my fingers. The room was quiet except for the crackling of the fireplace and Stump scratching on the door outside.

"This is a joke, yes?" Gerdur was the first to speak. Blonde hair was slipping out of her ponytail while her blue eyes stared straight into mine.

Ralof squeezed my hand until it started to hurt. Panic and confusion danced in his eyes. "Of course it is." I tried to pull my hand away but Ralof held it tight, never breaking eye contact.

"I've already decided." I spoke softly but the certainty was obvious in my tone.

"No. Skyrim is no place for you to wander about!" Ralof pounded his empty fist onto the table, knocking over Frodnar's cup of milk. "Talos knows it isn't safe out there!"

"You're leaving. Why can't I?" I snapped.

Gerdur reached over with a napkin to wipe up the milk. Ralof stood up slamming his hands to the table once again. Hod instinctively grabbed his mead. Ralof looked down at me with his flaring nostrils before storming out the door. I rose from the table and pushed my chair in.

"I am so sorry." I murmured, barely above a whisper before I turned to chase after Ralof.

The night was crystal clear. I looked to my left to see Faendal's house without any light from within. I felt a pang in my heart.

_He's probably out hunting for deer tonight._

I could hear Sven's lute and Orgnar laughing as I passed the Inn. Torchbugs danced around each other on the road up ahead and a lone wolf howled in the distance.

I found Ralof at the bridge, breaking off pieces of a large branch and throwing them forcefully into the river below.

"Hey, you." I slid next to him and gazed to the river reflecting the light of the two moons in the sky.

"You want to know why I fight under Ulfric's banner?" Ralof didn't look at me. Instead he gazed straight ahead, his eyes out of focus as though nothing was there.

"My cousin and I were born 4 days apart. We were inseparable since the day we could walk. He was my best friend. Hard headed and stubborn. Always spoke his mind. One night my cousin disappeared from home. Some say the Thalmor grabbed him after he spoke up."

Ralof folded his arms and leaned against the stone wall.

"My poor aunt, may the nine bless her, died soon after. I fight hoping that one day, no one will have to wake up to find their loved ones missing from their lives."

Ralof turned me by my shoulders to face him.

"Gerdur was the only family I had before I met you. You saved Jarl Ulfric and I in that burning tower in Helgen and for that, Talos must have sent you."

My eyes jumped across his face. His blue twinkled as they caught the moonlight. Tears began to pool in my eyes. I reached up brush the blonde braid of hair out of his face. He grabbed my small hand and pressed it to his stubbly cheek.

"Come to Windhelm with me, cub." He wiped a small tear drop off my chin.

"I can't Ralof. That's your path not mine."

Ralof pulled me to his chest and pressed his hand into my hair. I lifted my chin to meet his eyes but he stopped me. His lips were rough, chapped, and tasted of mead. The bristles of his chin brushed me as he released my head. I fell back into his chest.

"Leles, be safe out there." He whispers, wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger.

* * *

I returned from my morning hunt just as the sun rose. Gerdur was picking up firewood to bring inside. Her eyes were visibly red. My heart dropped.

"He already left, didn't he?" I muttered, pulling apples out of my bag and placing them in a basket on the shelf.

"He told us that he already said his goodbyes." Gerdur croaked, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

I folded up the burlap sack and placed my fresh pheasant in a pot of hot water on the table. "He did."

**AN:**

I wanted to clarify Leles's intentions for the dragonstone in the previous chapter. In the game, returning the dragonstone triggers the attack on the western watch tower and therefore, the spawning of random dragons while out exploring. Leles was exploiting the gaming system so that dragon's wouldn't spawn. Thanks for reading!


	9. Bloodlines

**A/N:**

Thought is was time to bring the Dragonborn into the picture and give Leles's story-telling a break. I hope it makes sense!

* * *

**Chapter 9: Bloodlines**

"I was expecting better from the Thane of Whiterun and his housecarl." Farengar Secret-Fire shook his head at the two dust covered figures in his doorway.

"Put a shoe in it, Nord." The golden skinned elf snapped. "Your dragonstone wasn't even there."

Farengar was taken by surprise. His associate assured him that the Dragonstone was in bleak falls barrow.

"The location was wrong?" Farengar stood scratching his head, his eyes widened in awe. He stared at his empty table in disbelief. The room grew quiet. The guard standing outside tried to mask a cough, as if not to interrupt the business going on in the study.

"Not quite," the robed Altmer announced, holding up his finger as he paced the floor.

Lydia leaned against the doorway of the court wizards study, running her fingers down her raven black hair. "Why don't you show him the letter, Horax?"

The High Elf pulled a folded letter out of his robe and handed it to Farengar. He ran his hand over his bald head and scrunched his face, awaiting the Nord's analysis.

"You found this," Farengar held up the now unfolded paper without bothering to read it, "instead of the dragonstone?" He shook his head and sighed. _Another bonehead, _he rolled his eyes.

Horax held his chin in his hand and stared into the distance. Farengar cleared his throat and the elf snapped his head to face the Nord mage. Something about the man's piercing green eyes gave Farengar goose bumps. _Altmer,_ he shuddered.

"That and a dead Draugr. The chamber was stripped of all treasure. It was… peculiar."

Farengar fell back into his chair and tugged at the long sideburns under his hood. He tapped his feet on the wooden floor

"How so?" the Nord questioned, eyes narrowed at the elf.

"Aside from the bandits and a pathetic Dunmer thief we faced in the beginning, the rest of the tomb must have been untouched for centuries."

Both mages ran their hands down their face in frustration. Farengar pressed the letter to his nose.

"This is fresh parchment." He induced.

"There was another way in." Horax revealed, shaking a finger at Farengar before continuing to pace the floor.

"There was no way you could get past the rock wall." Lydia unfolded her arms and stepped forward. "The opening control was on the exiters side."

"Yes, your experience in the tomb sounds all well and good. Since you have brought me no Dragonstone, I'm going to have to spend another sleepless night digging through my books for another dragon artifact." Farengar entered his bedroom and returned with a stack of books which he placed on the table with a loud thud. "My associate will be here any minute. I'm sure you don't need me to show you to the door 'oh-great-thane'. Now I thank you both," the Nord flipped through a musty book and coughed at the flying dust it released, "for nothing."

Horax narrowed his eyes into daggers. Farengar shoved his nose into a book to avoid the sharpened glare. The elf slammed his hands onto the table.

"Tell me snowman," Horax hissed. "What in oblivion is a Dovahkiin?"

"What did you say?" Farengar looked up from his book in bewilderment.

"Why don't you take a moment of your precious time and look over that letter." Horax tilted his head and pressed off the table. Lydia rolled her blue eyes and yawned.

In a flurry of panic, Farengar scoured his desk, overturning books and scrolls in search of the letter. He ducked under the table and scanned the ground. When his endeavor turned out fruitless, he crawled into his bedroom where he found the note, which now had a dusty footprint on the back. He stood to his feet and scanned the writing on the parchment.

"What else was there?" Farengar demanded.

Horax glanced to his left and right before returning his stare to Farengar

"In the tomb! Was there a-an engraving of some sort?" Farengar was beaming. The hood of his blue robe had fallen off, revealing his dark mutton chops. He cracked a tremendously toothy grin.

Horax snapped his fingers. "Yes, on a wall! They appeared to be scratches, as if done by claws. When approached, they seem to give off an enveloping light."

"I've only heard about these in books and stories. It's ancient Nord folk lore." Farengar flipped through his books excitedly. "Whoever wrote this letter must be a believer in the Prophecy of the Dovahkiin," He picked up the letter and read over it again. "and has knowledge of the dragon language."

A short woman, presumably Breton, dressed in leather armor entered the study and pushed past Lydia and Horax. Only her lips and pointed nose were visible under the shadow of her brown hood. Horax turned to Lydia and pointed at the woman who was approaching Farengar. Lydia gave him an equally confused look and shrugged her shoulders.

"Farengar, I hope you're making progress." Her tone was flat and icy. "My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers."

"Oh, have no fear." The Nord held up his hand. "The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research."

"Time is running Farengar, don't forget." She sharpened her tone at the Nord mage. "This isn't some theoretical question. Dragons have come back." The woman looked Horax up and down and folded her arms across her chest. She practically dispersed frost into the room.

"Who is your visitor?" She asked. Her eyes were still inspecting Horax.

"Ah," Farengar began, "this is the man who escaped the attack on Helgen. He was also the man whom Jarl Balgruff suggested I send to retrieve the Dragonstone."

The Breton woman raised her eyebrows at the elf.

Farengar wrung his hands. "He seems to have come back… empty handed."

"Hmph," The woman sneered. "Another of the Jarl's brutish thanes."

"Apparently the Dragonstone wasn't there. This letter was found in its place."

The Breton looked over the letter that Farengar handed to her. Her lips parted to release a small gasp. She looked up toward Horax and Lydia, Her nose, now scrunched like discarded parchment.

"Something is horribly wrong. You can't be. " The woman placed the letter on the table in front of her. "I'll get back to you, Farengar." Her voice returned to its deflated tone.

"Can't be what?" Horax asked as he followed the Breton who quickly walked toward the exit of the study.

"Dovahkiin." The woman left the study. Horax whipped around to face Farengar.

"By the nine, what is a Dovahkiin?" He shouted placing one hand on his hip and throwing the other in the air.

Farengar leaned against a wooden pillar and ran his hand over his hair, trying to process the rapid fire of events that just occurred. He turned to face the Elf and his housecarl. All three of them shared the same puzzled expression. "It translates to Dragonborn."


	10. On the Road Again

**Chapter 10: On the Road Again**

I made sure that Gerdur and her family knew I would be leaving in the morning. We celebrated with some fresh roasted pheasant, crispy apple pie, and a bottle of Black-Briar mead. Gerdur offered to pay beforehand but I told her if she plucked the pheasant, I would consider it pay enough. Goodbyes were always awkward and uncomfortable for me so I simply thanked the family that housed me and hugged them all goodnight. I really did owe them my life.

I slipped out while it was dark and threw my fur hood over my head.

_Damn, just my luck_

I almost considered going back inside once I felt the droplets of water splash onto my face. I pushed on. If I didn't go now, when would I?

I made my way to the river and filled my waterskin. I continued to hug the water's edge as I trekked south toward Falkreath. I wasn't sure what I would find there aside from work and shelter. I wanted to make my way to a larger city, one embraced in the safety of walls. Whiterun was the closest but that was simply out of the question. I had no idea what the Dragonborn looked like and I wasn't about to take any chances to run into him.

The coin pouch and healing potions in my knapsack jingled against the Dragonstone. I tried to pack light. I brought some dried venison and apples but my main concern was keeping warm. If only I could learn a good flame spell. Then I wouldn't have to worry about building a fire every time I wanted to set up camp. I had been backpacking for weeks at a time back home so the weight of my pack didn't weigh me down so much. This time however, I had no destination and every belonging I owned was on my back.

The sheets of rain and thunder crashing in the sky made it impossible to hear the approaching wolves. I was thrust onto the gravel of the river bank as a wolf pushed against my pack. The wolf dug the jagged nails of its paw down my leg. I rolled onto my back and pulled my steel dagger out of its sheath at my side. I held my arms over my face as the wolf snapped at me, tearing off a piece of my fur sleeve.

_Why did the wolves in Skyrim have to be so imposing on the roads?_

I pulled my dagger across the wolf's throat and s crambled to my feet. If there was one, there was bound to be more. To my right I saw a small patch of ground rising above the water. I ran to it, prepared to step into deep water and begin swimming. To my surprise, it was shallow waters all the way through. I crouched down, placing a knee to the ground and drew my bow. Two wolves approached the edge of the river and paced the ground. They snapped from afar, drool flying from their jaws.

I sent an arrow flying into a nearby tree. I still had a horrid accuracy when it came to moving objects. One wolf tested the water but climbed back onto the rocky shore while the last member of his pack howled into the rain.

As if my poor marksmanship wasn't enough, visibility was so low in the pouring rain. My hood had fallen off and my hair was now collecting water until it trailed into my undershirt. I drew another arrow from my quiver and released it at a howling wolf. The arrow pierced its lifted chin and I turned my focus to the remaining wolf. It stepped out further into the water, realizing that it was only a few feet deep. I gripped my bow with both hands and held it up against the charging beast. Saliva spewed from its mouth and splashed against my face. The wolf weighed more than I did and collapsed on top of me as I failed to push it back. The rain threatened to drown me as I fell to rocks beneath, smashing the apples in my pack. Arrows spilled out of their quiver and littered the ground surrounding me. I held my bow above my face and slid a hand to the middle while I reached out in search of the nearest arrow. The wolf growled and clamped its jaws around my wrist. I let out a scream of pain as teeth sank into my median nerve. I pressed my boots to the animal's stomach and the wolf removed its jaws to lunge for my neck. I gripped the shaft of the closest arrow and shoved it into the wolf's yellow eye. The yelping beast squirmed on top of me before I continued plunging arrows past the matted fur of its neck. Warm blood dripped onto my face in fat droplets before being washed away by the shower of rain.

Once I kicked the wolf off of me, I pushed myself to my knees and closed my eyes, taking in deep breaths through my mouth. What in Oblivion was I thinking? Traveling alone in Skyrim made as much sense as sitting down in Helgen waiting for Alduin to save me.

I was now soaking wet and marred from my battle with wolves. I opened my eyes to inspect the blood seeping from my wrist. I cringed at the sight of my torn flesh. Who knows what kind of bacteria was in that wolf's mouth? I rinsed my bites and scratches in the river and poured a healing potion over them before taking a small sip. The blood began to coagulate so I wasted no time in getting back on the road. If I didn't make it to a settlement, I risked freezing out here.

* * *

I was in desperate need of a map. My intention was to buy one in Riverwood but Lucan claimed he was "fresh out". I made a mental note to buy one at the next shop I ran into. I had come to what appeared to be a fork in the road but I now found myself off the road completely. The rain had finally let up so I pulled out a mess of mushed apple and ate as I hiked. A thatched roof came into view as I approached a downhill path. A small vegetable garden was growing behind the house. I stopped chewing to listen for any sign of people nearby.

Water drizzled from the pine needles and wind brushed against the mountians nearby. A few birds chirped in the distance and I a faint scent of smoke lingered in the air. I lifted my gaze to the chimney but no smoke was billowing. I stepped gingerly on the wet soil until I approached the sprouting vegetables. Tomatoes smush too easily and gourds were far too cumbersome. I plucked the potato plant and shook the dirt off the dangling tubers.

I continued down the road till another noise caught my attention. Laughs and singing broke the serene symphony of birds in the trees. I stood still, panic overtaking my body. My heart pounded in my chest as I shot my eyes wide open, slowly twitching my gaze side to side. Footsteps, where were they coming from? Who were they coming from? By their hoarse voices and the vulgar language I could make out, my mind raced to only one answer: Bandits.

My legs were moving before I consciously made the decision. Wolves! I could hardly take wolves!

"Hey!" A woman yelled in a scratched voice as she turned the bend of the road. Her male companion began to run after me.

"You've picked a bad time to get lost, friend!" The sound of metal scraping against metal was unmistakable. They could eat me for lunch.

My throat was burning before I finally stopped running. I wobbled toward a tree in front of me and leaned against it while hacked up my apple mush. I coughed on the sour vomit which unsurprisingly, looked the same as when I ate it. I wiped my mouth off on my sleeve and focused on the entrance in front of me. Crumpled towers and blackened house frames rested behind the stone wall. There was no doubt about it; I stood in Helgen.

I cautiously stepped past the archway, as though at any minute Alduin the world eater might swoop down and gobble me. Shriveled red and black corpses littered the floor. Black scorch marks were burnt on the soil and blocks of stone. I continued through the remains of the town. A skeever looked up from a charred body and hissed at me. My stomach struggled to keep my breakfast down as I approached the chopping block that almost took my life. It stood in the same position it was left in. My body was shaking by the time I reached the wooden doors of Helgen's entrance. They stood remarkable untouched, keeping all the atrocities hidden away within its waning walls. I pulled on the metal handle ring and the gate gave way. I squeezed my tiny frame in between the two doors and slipped out of the opening into the Skyrim sun.

My pace slowed profusely as I frequently had to stop and catch my breath. The sun was still high, but I had no idea where I was going to spend the night. A post sign up ahead pointed straight ahead to Ivarstead and Riften and backward towards Helgen. I stopped and turned my head to the ruins of my new beginning. If I didn't find a settlement within an hour, I would turn back and make camp under some rubble. Just the thought made me gag. The old wood of the sign was soft from the rain when I ripped off the arrow labeled 'Helgen'.

* * *

"How do we know she's not an Imperial spy?" A man dressed in the blue of the Stormcloak cuirass bellowed through his helmet.

"Look at her! She's just a girl!" The man on his left sheathed his sword and removed his helmet. He smiled at me through his red beard before brushing his hair out of his face

"I'm no friend of the empire." I lifted two dead rabbit in my hands for the men on the hill above me to see through the falling snow. "I come bearing gifts." The soldier nodded his head and motioned for me to approach the camp. "I think rabbit would taste better than that skeever you're roasting."

The soldier with the helmet snatched the rabbit out of my hands and grunted. I followed the red headed Stormcloak to a large tent at the end of the camp. A blonde Nord wearing officer armor stood in the tent leaning over a large map sprawled across the table in front of him. He looked up as we entered.

"This girl has come bearing rabbits and seeking shelter from the snow storm." The Stormcloak straightened his posture in the presence of the officer. The blonde Nord nodded and the man at my side left.

"I only wish to avoid the storm. If it's too much trouble, I'll be taking my rabbits and head on my way." I stared into the man's eyes, silently praying to whoever would listen that he didn't turn me away.

He straightened his back and let out a small chuckle. "And go where?" He asked, seeing through my courageous façade. His accent was thick.

I scratched at my nose and folded my hands in front of me. "I'll be taking my rabbits none the less."

He beckoned me closer "You're a bit young to be wandering around Skyrim." He held his chin and eyed my torn attire. "And a fool to be wandering around with a snow storm brewing."

Wind blew the snow into the tent and against my legs. I shivered in my spot.

"Thorygg Sun-Killer," he informed me in inscrutable expression. "Commander of this camp. Tell me, did you pass through Helgen?"

I turned my head at the mention of the town. I ran my hand through my damp hair and placed my hand on my hip. "Ask away. I have answers."

* * *

I was antsy around all the soldiers of the campfire at supper. I was thankful nobody wanted to talk. Rabbit-snatcher eyed me with daggers whenever I moved towards the roast on the spit. He grumbled under his breath frequently, as though stuck babysitting while his friends went out drinking. He reminded me of a mudcrab.

"You don't want to cook that?" A woman questioned as I munched a raw potato. Mudcrab rolled his eyes at me and grunted.

"I'm…I'm okay."

When mudcrab fell asleep on the campfire log, I pulled the leftover rabbit off the spit and onto a wooden plate. I tiptoed down to the tent of the two wounded soldiers I read to earlier.

"Hey," I whispered. "This is for you." I placed the plate down between them.

"Thank you." croaked a man with bandage around his eye. "They forget we're here when supplies run low." He picked at a piece of meat with shaking hands before placing it between his thin wrinkled lips. "I don't blame them." He wiped his mouth before quickly grabbing at another peice.

I sat down on one of the many empty hay piles and pulled my knapsack over my chest. It reeked of death but I didn't bother moving. I had a strong feeling all of them did.


	11. The Rift

**Chapter 11: The Rift**

Clear sunlight bathed my body when I finally opened my eyes. It was much later in the morning than I had hoped but, much to my gratitude, the snow storm had passed over in the night.

"I saved this for you." The bandaged man rolled a red apple to me from his hay pile. "Shipment's finally arrived."

I brushed the dirt off the apple and rubbed it on my undershirt.

"So, is this camp permanent?" I asked biting into my apple with a loud crunch.

"Probably for me."

"Don't say that!" I countered as bits of apple fell out of my mouth.

I left the tent with a groggy stretch, winding my arms and pulling my pack on. My shoulders were awfully tight and my knees, quite stony. Like a rock…

"You look a little rough around the edges." The quartermaster called out from her workbench. "Feeling alright?"

Now that she mentioned it, I did wake up as stiff as a sleeping draugr and it required a great deal of effort just to push myself onto my hands, though I attributed it to yesterday's rough journey.

Mudcrab was hunched over by the fire, snapping his pincers at a roasting chicken. "Keep away from me." He snarled. "You'll get me sick."

"It was probably from the rabbit." I quipped before turning to Thorygg's tent.

"Leaving?" The commander spoke without looking up from his map.

"I want to thank you for your warmth and generosity." I smiled at him, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face.

Thorygg didn't return the smile. "These are hard times. I ask that you tell no one of your stay here."

"Consider it done."

* * *

A fresh layer of snow hid the stone road from me as I proceeded down the hillside. Water dripped off the icicles from the post sign ahead. The mountain walls surrounding me bounced billowing clouds back and forth. A Redguard hunter approached on a palomino horse.

"Excuse me," I began. Hunters were generally harmless but I gripped my dagger underneath my long fur armor. Maybe I could get a stab in and run.

The hunter turned to me and pulled back on the reins. "Yeah?"

"Are you selling any potions?"

"Do I look like an alchemist to you? Get lost kid." The hunter shifted in her saddle and cracked her reins.

Great. Now I'd have to make my way to Riften in the early stages of Rockjoint. At least nothing was pouring on me from the sky.

* * *

Whatever gods were above me were surely having a blast. It was just my luck to fall into Skyrim during winter. Sun's Dusk, I soon discovered, was a horribly unforgiving month. By the time I reached Ivarstead I was already soaking wet.

I stopped at the Inn for the night and hung my armor to dry by the fire. Bassianus, an arrogant Nord who I purposely avoided upon entering the Inn, sat on a barstool with a tankard of mead in his hands. He tugged at his deep red beard and peered into my room, not bothering to hide the fact that he was staring as I climbed into bed. What ideas must have been running through the builders head when they didn't include doors for the inn bedrooms? In my best attempt to ignore his stares, I pulled the blankets over my head and called it a night.

* * *

When I wasn't being chased to death by the indigenous wildlife, bandits included, Skyrim's landscape was quite beautiful and soothing. The Rift was certainly a change from the icy, green, pine forests I had passed through in Whiterun and Falkreath. Blades of amber grass waved in the breeze while golden leaves danced to the ground and stained the waters reflection.

The walls of Riften came into view. A few boats had left on their fishing routes and were sailing off in the distance. Dappled grey horses stood in their stables munching on carrots and hay stacks as I slowly approached the gate. If only I had enough coin for a horse. Traveling would be so much easier.

"Hold there." A guard in a purple tabard grumbled folding his husky arms across his chest. He turned to the guard at the other side of the city gate.

"Before we let you in, you need to pay a visitors tax."

"What for? That's ridiculous."

" For the privilege of entering the city." He snarled. I was glad he had a helmet over his head. I placed my hands on my hips and cleared my throat.

"I'm getting into the city. This is obviously a shakedown." I objected, holding my head high.

"Well we can't have you go blabbing to the other guards about this now can we?" The guard signaled to his accomplice and the two Nords drew closer. "Why don't we give you a little incentive to keep your mouth shut."

Clearly, My speech skill was lacking.


	12. First Impressions

**Chapter 12: First Impressions**

"Being Dragonborn is something my brother and I used to dream about when we were younger." Lydia confessed with a smile, feeding the fire with another short stick.

"Lydia I told you," Horax looked over to her from his bedroll across the fire pit. "I'm not the bloody Dragonborn. I may not be pure blood Altmer, but that is as low as I'm going."

Lydia rolled her eyes and fell back onto her bedroll. "I don't think you quite understand what an honor it would be if you were."

Bubbles brewed in the Morthal swamp while insects buzzed around the stagnant water. Every now and then, a rustle in the grass startled Lydia into shooting out of her bedroll and grabbing her sword. Meanwhile, Horax was sound asleep with his robe pulled over his head. Sometimes Lydia felt more like a care taker than a housecarl.

Horax awakened with a hacking cough. Lydia rolled onto her side and examined the elf through her web of hair.

"You sound worse than yesterday."

Horax shook his head between coughs.

"By the Gods, you're sweating buckets!" Lydia crawled to her Thanes bedroll and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"What? It's just a tickle in my throat." He cleared his throat and swallowed a few times to test for soreness.

"Please," Lydia murmured, searching through Horax's pack for potions. "Your throat wasn't the only thing that was tickled. I bet that Alva from Morthal got you sick."

Horax pulled his hood over his head to block Lydia's probing hands. "You don't know what you're talking about." He folded his arms over his chest.

"That woman chases after men like a wolf after rabbits. Dibella knows what diseases she's hiding."

"Lydia, please." The man raised his finger into the dark sky. "She's just, flagrantly accessible."

"Floozy, homewrecker," Lydia cocked her head and poked the elf's sharp nose. "You are just trying to deny that you have been caught in the spider's web."

"She is not a strumpet. She's a very lovely woman and you," his smile peeked out from under his hood "are simply jealous."

Lydia wrinkled her nose in disgust before forcing a laugh. "Of what? I hold no envy for that street walker." _It's true,_ she reassured herself, _there must be a hagraven hiding under all that makeup._ She poured water onto a small cloth and battled Horax's flailing hands as she pressed it to his face. "You know for a 70 year old elf, you have the sophistication of a pubescent school boy."

"What can I say? I'm aging gracefully." A deviant smirk spread across the Altmer's face before Lydia shoved him over with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.

"You're just embarrassed because I look younger than you and you already have crowfeet." He snickered, pulling the Nord onto his chest.

Lydia straddled Horax's chest and dropped her smile as she felt heat rise to her cheeks. The dancing orange flames reflected off his glassy green eyes. The man below her slowly raised his hands to tuck the dangling braid behind her ear. He caressed the corner of her left eye where the nonexistent wrinkles resided. "You shouldn't be." He whispered.

* * *

It wasn't the first time the wandering pair had woken up in a place where Lydia did not recall falling asleep in. A strong pull on her hair woke Lydia up with a painful tug. She opened her eyes to find herself wedged into Horax's armpit while her bay horse worked its jaws on her hair.

"No, boy." She snapped at the horse, quickly pulling her hair out of its mouth and tossing a nearby carrot into the corner. She turned her attention back to her thane, who lay spread out on the hay pile with his mouth hanging open. She poked at his ribs drawing a snort from his congested sinuses. She could see his white nostril hairs from this angle…

"Hey!" Lydia shouted into the elf's pointed ear.

Horax jumped to his feet and instinctually shot out flames into the hay pile. Lydia shrieked and rolled off as the dry hay burst into flames. The nearby horses stamped their feet and whinnied in terror. Realizing his mistake, Horax smothered the fire in a sheet of ice. A guard in the distance yelled incoherent swears while the Hofgrir rushed out of his house to check on the commotion at his stables.

"Horax, you idiot!" Lydia shrieked, shoving the elf into the wall.

After much explaining to the Riften Guards, the duo returned to the blackened ground of the stable and sat with their horses and a bag of apples. Smoke still lingered in the air.

"There was an inn in town, you know." Lydia stared blankly into a distant autumn colored tree as she bit into a red apple.

"I know." Crunch, an orange carrot.

"Or Haelga would've let you stay for 'free'" The corner of the Nords lips curled at the memory of Halega's panic stricken face when Horax threatened to reveal her dirty secrets. All of Riften could agree; that woman hauled more wood than a lumberjack.

Horax stood to his feet and held out a wilted carrot for his horse who snorted and turned her head. Lydia shuddered. The red eyes and black coat gave her chills. There was something _wrong_ about the beast. Shadowmere, as she was called, didn't seem to mind Lydia but was extremely protective of her owner. Horax claimed it was a gift from his family after he arrived in Skyrim 2 years ago. _Family business_ she reminded herself. That's why he moved to Skyrim in the first place. _Family business…_

_"_Lydia?" She shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up to face the thin Altmer.

"I missed you." Horax's eyes dropped to meet hers.

The Nord dropped her hands and squinted at the towering figure. "What?"

The golden elf returned to the floor and rocked back and forth. His skin glistened in the afternoon sun beams. Lydia watched the lump in his throat slide up and down as he swallowed. In the pit of her stomach, a flower threatened to bloom and spill out of her mouth. She shook the thoughts from her head while her face became very warm once again.

"You were visiting Cyrodiil for two weeks at the most."

"Have you forgotten that I was arrested at the border? Being caught in that mess at Helgen seemed more…"

"You don't need to repeat it." She murmured and turned away before he could catch her staring.

I had never been so scared in my life." Horax stood up and held a hand out to the woman on the floor.

She watched as he headed off toward the Riften gate.

"You know, since I've never been scared before." He added with a flash of a toothy grin

* * *

The sweet smell of honey greeted the pair of travelers as they strolled the Riften walkways. Lydia made her way to Balimund's workshop, eager to relinquish her burdens, while Horax chatted up the overly friendly Svana Far-Shield.

"What's that ruckus?" Horax asked as he finally arrived at the forge.

Balimud wiped his hands on his blacksmith apron before accepting the fire salts the elf held out for him.

"Some poor sod got caught in another shake down at the gate."

Horax shook his bald head and chortled. "Heh, you want to go watch?"

"Horax," Lydia scolded. "you spend all your time playing hero and when a poor lad is in need of your help, you laugh?" She shook her dark locks and scampered off with Horax in tow.

The two approached the steps of Mistveil Keep to find two guards digging items out of a knapsack in front of panic-stricken, scrawny young girl. Most of the items they dumped on the floor looked mundane and replaceable: a few potatoes, a book, potions, and a pelt. When the guards found no bag of coins they turned to one another and straightened their backs.

"We'll be confiscating you're belongings until you're willing to pay up, girl. Until you make your decision, you'll be spending your time in a cell. I hear Sibbi's getting lonely."

The Riften guard sneered at the girl and dumped the remaining contents of her pack onto the floor. Horax and Lydia widened their eyes at the sight before them. At the foot of the young girl lay the dragonstone, resting on a bed of smashed potatoes.


	13. Orderly Introductions

**Chapter 13: An Orderly Introduction**

A tiny black fly drowned itself in my wine as I slid the goblet back and forth between my hands. A pair of lime green eyes carefully documented my movements as droplets of purple liquid splashed onto the table. Maven Black-Briar sat at a table against the wall with a mudcrab mounted above her head. Occasionally she would glance at Horax and raise her brows when she caught me looking. Horax coughed without dropping his stare while I swirled my goblet between my palms. A whirlpool sucked the winged insect into the depths of purple ocean.

Maven sauntered to our table slowly and placed her slender, decorated hand upon Horax's shoulder.

"I'm busy, Maven" He hissed without looking up.

A hush swept over the guests at the Bee and Barb. Maven dug her talons into his shoulder and pursed her lips.

"I advise you watch your tongue, elf." She whispered.

Horax smiled and tapped his long nails on the table while continuing to stare at me. I averted my eyes to the flickering flame of the goat horn candle that sat on the table.

"Don't forget who you're speaking to, Maven."

It wasn't until the matriarch of the Black-Briar family left the tavern that people began to talk again. I winced as the rockjoint stiffened my hands while reaching for a slice of warm steaming bread that Talen-Jei set on the table.

"I believe you have something of mine." The elf rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together.

"Well. It certainly doesn't belong to you as of now." I reached out for another slice of bread.

Horax whipped out a curved dagger and stabbed it into the table between my shaking ring and middle finger. I quickly pulled my hand to my chest, eyes wide in shock. I recognized the dagger: The Blade of Woe.

_Wonderful. This guy is an assassin._

"Where are you from?" He shot, eyes narrowed in anger. His voice was hoarse from coughing.

"Ivarstead."

"Try again."

"Riverwood."

He paused and took a sip of his wine.

"Liar. I've never seen you there before."

"I've seen you."

Horax grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the middle of the table. I felt the eyes of the tavern on us. Obviously, it didn't bother him.

He rose from his chair to meet me and whispered through gritted teeth.

"I don't know what you're game is, little girl, but I gave someone my word that I would return this dragonstone and I never go back on my word." He pulled me closer to him. " I believe you have something of mine."

"Over my dead body."

"Do you really mean that?" a toothy grin spread across the elf's face. I looked closer at his pearly teeth. His canines were noticeably long and sharp. Thin red veins crawled around the sclera of his eyes while flakes of orange dotted his green irises.

"No." I shook my head.

He released me and I sank back into my seat and folded my hands in my lap.

"I'll give you the dragonstone," I announced

Horax laughed and shook his head. "Like you had a choice."

I held up a finger in protest, "If you let me come to Whiterun with you."

"How did you know I was going to Whiterun?"

I held my hand out to the elf. "Leles. Consider me an ally."

"Grahzeymahzin?" He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, remembering the note I lef in Bleak Falls Barrow.

I nodded.

"You'll get in the way. What are you 11?" He snipped.

"Hey, who got the dragonstone?" I shot back.

"Yet earlier today you were about to be tossed into jail because you were caught in a thieves guild scam!" He sneered. "I don't need you."

"You will."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

I don't like games, kid."

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

Horax sat back in his chair, face wrinkled in frustration.

I pushed my extended hand forward. His large hand wrapped around mine. They were as cold as death.

We sat back in our seats and stared at each other. Talen-Jei came by and offered to pour me more wine. I smiled and shook my head. Horax asked him to leave the bottle.

"When did you contract Sanguinaris Vampiris?" I asked picking at the crust of a slice of snowberry crostata.

Horax recoiled in shock. "What are you talking about?"

I swallowed a mouthful and prepared to answer before Lydia approached the table.

"Rooms are ready." The Nord announced before taking the seat next to Horax.

"Leles," The elf waved a hand in my direction, "is going to accompany us to Whiterun."

"What? As if Meeko wasn't enough. You're taking in stray children too?"

* * *

"You sure you don't want to come in?" I urged the elf from the stone steps of the temple of the Godess of love. Torchlights lit the doorway in the early morning. The river running through Riften lapped at the wooden walkways. Lydia was already waiting at the stable with the horses for our journey to Whiterun.

Horax held up his hands. "I don't believe Mara is very pleased with me at the moment."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I'm not going anywhere." He reassured me. "Not without the dragonstone."

I closed the thick wooden door as slowly as I could. Hopefully I wouldn't wake any of the priests. If the blessing didn't work, I didn't want to listen to any follower of Mara berate me for my sinful lifestyle. I don't think I could explain to them that I couldn't repent the dimension I was born in. I cringed as the weight of the door screeched along the floor. I cursed myself and slowly moved down the aisle between the wooden pews. The room was well lit with candles on the walls and altar. Planters of flowers stood before the great statue of Mother Mara. I approached the shrine and stood in front of it silently. This was ridiculous What was I even supposed to do?

A voice to my left made me jump.

"What is it you seek, my child?" A blue skinned elf stood in orange robes rubbing her red eyes.

"Umm." I backed away from the shrine.

The dark elf smiled. "Don't be scared, child. Mara loves all her children."

"And what if I am not her child?

The elf held my chin in her hands. "Look at you, the love of life sparkles in your eyes. Go on. Mother Mara would not deny you her blessing."

I placed my hands on both sides of the shrine and closed my eyes.

"Please, Mother Mara." I whispered under my breath. I had to confess, I was about to feel extremely silly if nothing happened.

I wave of blue light washed over me, enveloping my body in warmth and comfort. I felt airy and light, like I was a little girl again being lifted in my grandmother's embrace. A tingle spread throughout my limbs and into each toe and finger. I could even smell the baked pastries from my early childhood. I tested my shoulder. It rolled with ease. The rockjoint was definitely gone.

The priestess smiled at me when I opened my eyes. I nodded t her and returned the smile as I turned to exit the temple.

"We ready?" Horax asked as I skipped down the steps of Mara's temple.

He sniffed the air as I nodded and continued past the courtyard.

"Does it smell like pie to you?


	14. Exposure

**A/N:**

**Wow! I'm glad you guys are liking my story! I 'm really trying to post frequently but I put off AP summer assignments so I'm slowing down a bit to catch up on school work. I hope you guys stick around. I'm so grateful for all the kind reviews! They are more than welcome! C:**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Exposure**

Horax was less than thrilled when he realized I didn't have a horse. Since Lydia's bay horse did not have the same demonic strength as Shadowmere, I was hoisted onto the black mare. I wondered if she could sense my earthly presence. The High Elf pulled himself up with the horn of the saddle and cracked the reins. I pressed myself against Horax's back and held on to his waist tightly. For such a tall man he was alarmingly thin. Shadowmere didn't seem to be affected by my extra weight. Lydia rode her bay horse a short distance in front of us.

I tried to squeeze myself onto the seat of the saddle but with all the bumps and movement from riding horseback I kept sliding up past the cantle.

"Loosen up." Horax grunted, wiggling in his seat to loosen my grip.

"Sorry." I whispered, scooting a few centimeters away before my hand slipped and I fell forward into the elf's back.

"Ouch!" He shook his head. "Stop that!"

I pressed my nose to the back of his dark robe. It smelled of fresh cut lavender and a hint of aromatic spice. Juniper maybe.

"You must be an alchemist. You smell like flowers!" I piped.

The smell quickly soured and I wrinkled my nose as if something had just gone foul. The once floral soothing scent melted away into the metallic rusty smell of drying blood. I pulled away as a hint of ash lingered in the small space between us.

"and death." I wondered if this is what deathbells and Nightshade smell like?

"What did you say?"

"Are you a mage too?" Although Horax wasn't my character, I was still at an advantage with my knowledge of the game.

Horax grumbled, ignoring my questions. I sighed and stared off into the surrounding wilderness. Ahead of us, rays of orange sunlight peered behind the Throat of the World. I lifted Horax's black hood over his head.

"Ack!" He swiped his hand over his head.

"You'll need this. You're hands are going to roast. Don't you have gloves?"

"This is really unfair." He pouted. "Just because you are sitting behind me doesn't mean I will put up with all the yapping in my ear."

"Quiet," I hushed him. I listened for the sizzle of his skin as the sun reached up behind the snowy mountain peaks. "What is it, day three?"

"By Stedarr's Mercy, will you shut your bloody trap!" Horax howled into the bleeding purple and orange sky. He pulled Shadowmere to a halt and slid down.

Horax's sickly pale face was shadowed under his hood but the scowl on his face was as clear as the breaking daylight. He curled his lips, exposing the unnaturally long fangs underneath. The sanguinaris vampiris had made its full progression and blossomed into the vampire that lifted his chin to meet my gaze. His once lime green irises now burned in a fiery orange ring encircling his large yellow pupils.

He stood beneath me, nostrils flaring and knuckles white from being clenched so tightly. I wanted to jump off of Shadowmere and run for safety in a large tree.

"Listen to me…" He uttered through gritted teeth. The undead elf lifted his finger to the sky.

His jaw fell and his glowing eyes widened as he gazed at his burning hand. The sun was now above us, beating down upon the pallid skin of the vampire. The Altmer's skin hissed in the rays of sunlight. Small wisps of smoke drifted skyward into the crisp Rift air.

Horax shot his gaze up to me. We mirrored each other's expressions as we tried to speak. No words managed to escape our lips.

"Hey, what are you two doing?" Lydia shouted from her bay horse, Hestr, in the distance. "Let's move!"

Horax and I didn't break our eye contact. Lydia turned her house around slowly and started toward us. I looked ahead to face her before Horax grabbed my leg. He shook his head as panic spread across his face. His hand sizzled on my skin.

"Lydia!" I called out. Horax dug his filed nails into my skin. I winced and slapped his hand away. "We have to stop. Horax is ill." I slid down from Shadowmere and turned to the elf, pulling the sleeve of his robe over his hand. I placed my hand on his shoulder and inched closer to him. "I won't tell."

* * *

I stood at the mouth of Boulderfall Cave as wind echoed off the cold stone walls. Shadowmere and Hestr nibbled on wild thistle bushes while Horax and Lydia cleared out the cavern. The rocky outcrop on which the cave stood allowed for a small view of a clearing below. Orange and honey colored trees dotted the land, basking in the beams of morning sun.

I sat on the ground and picked at the moss until Lydia emerged from the cavern triumphantly.

"Everything's set." She huffed, dumping a body over the rocky edge. She wiped her forehead with the pale skin of her arm. "Nothing but a dead necromancer." She smiled.

Lydia lead me down into the depths of the cavern. Bone rattles hung from old wooden beams and cobwebs engulfed the corners. I was thankful that the cave was small. I wasn't fond of the idea that creepy crawlies could be lurking in the tunnels as we rested unaware. Horax sat on the alchemy table with his bald head in his hands.

"What's the plan?" Lydia asked placing her sword and shield on a nearby table.

"You could use some rest right now." I looked up from the bookshelf I was rummaging through. "We can pick up where we left off later.

Horax sat on a wooden chest testing his fangs on the flesh of a green apple. Lydia watched from a nearby chair. She had removed her boots and leaned far back, grateful for the temporary rest. Her eyes drifted across the elf's face. She paused to look away while her mind turned different diseases over and over in her mind. She could tell something was up.

"Do Altmer's usually change eye colors?" She rocked back in her wooden chair, arms folded and resting on her stomach.

"We react different to illness." Horax snapped.

In the few hours that passed, I had poured over the small amount of books that the necromancer had kept in his cave. The books on alchemy were definitely my favorite while the books and the different classes of magic were just a bit… esoteric.

I glanced up from the book in my lap.

"Hey!" I blurted out with a wide grin glowing on my face. "Can you teach me about magic?"

"Shut up." Horax growled, hostility foaming about his mouth.

* * *

The dark blue evening gown of the night sky had spilled into the atmosphere and over the passing dusk. Hestr and Shadowmere stood in front of a barren thistle bush and stamped at the rock beneath their hooves. I ran down the cave to invite Horax and Lydia back onto the road.

"I don't want to hear a pip." Horax hissed as he lifted me onto the saddle.

After a few hours passed, Horax dropped the tension in his shoulders and allowed himself to breathe, not that he needed to anymore. A few bats soared ahead of Lydia. A Luna Moth wisped through the air next to me and floated onto Horax's shoulder. He twitched before I brushed it off him. I scooted back on the saddle and up to the cantle, awaiting his berating for the physical contact.

Horax cleared his throat. "How did you know about my vampirism?" His voice was soft and blended into the night air like the breeze. He seemed calm, a sight I had not seen yet.

"How could you not tell?" I replied. "This signs were as clear as day. Didn't you know you were sick?"

"Not from sanguinaris vampiris."

"Why didn't you take a potion?"

"Pride, I guess." He shrugged his shoulders. "Relying too much on my elven blood."

"More like idiocy. You're elven not immortal." I gasped and I bit my lip at the realization of my statement.

Horax chuckled. "To be honest, I'm not even pure Altmer." He pulled his hood off his head and breathed in the cool night air. I stared at his pointed ears and struggled to control the urge to touch them. Faendal didn't seem to mind but I had a feeling the Horax was more likely to snap my fingers like twigs.

"I was born into a family of wealthy Thalmor diplomats. My mother's brother was a Justicar who worked under my 'father'. Her wedding was arranged for her when she was 15."

"Then how do you know he isn't your father?" I slid down into the saddle and pressed my cheek against the elf's back. Horax paused before continuing.

"When I was 12, I found a jewelry box resting on the bottom of our lake. Inside was a ring engraved to my mother and some moldy note:'May the seed we planted bloom into the embodiment of our eternal love.' Something mushy along those lines. Apparently the man was my mother's gardener. The contents of the box suggested he was much, much more."

My ear was pressed against Horax's back. I listened for the sound of pumping blood or a heartbeat. The only sound being fed to my ears was the trot of hooves and rustle of leaves. I waited for Horax to speak again. When he wasn't growling at me, his voice had a soothing effect, like warm milk and honey.

"My father never liked me. He wanted me killed after birth but my mother wouldn't have it. I was the last thing left of her lover."

"Were you close?" I closed my eyes and leaned against him. My voice was quiet and beginning to slur as sleep pulled on my body. Was he doing this on purpose?

"No. Keeping me alive was the only time she spoke against my father. She would bend to him like a willow. I was solely raised by a Khajiit housemaid. She alone is the only woman I would ever call my parent. What about you, Leles?"

The ash scent of Horax's robes had disappeared. I traced my hand down his spine, inhaling the tranquilizing scent of flowers that lingered on his robe. My arms stretched to hug the elf's slim waist as I nuzzled my face in the stiff fabric on his back. Slowly, I dozed off as Shadowmere carried us on into the night.

"Good night." I murmured as I released myself into sleeps embrace.

For a moment, I swear I heard the wind whisper back.


	15. Lightweight

**Chapter 15: Lightweight**

Although we did have to stop once more when the sun came up, the trip to Whiterun was relatively smooth. A few bandits attempted to squeeze money out of us on the road which prompted Horax to run them through with his blade. Lydia was rather confused by the aspect of resting during the day but Horax told her that his eyes were too sensitive. Being the obedient housecarl she is, she took a hint and stopped asking questions.

The three of us wobbled away from the Whiterun stables and started up the winding uphill path to the gates. The small sloping passage seemed mountainous to our bodies, weak from empty stomachs and, except for Horax, the nightly traveling. Orange flame of the city torch pits greeted us as we entered the city. Shiny rocks from the cobblestone road sparkled under the twin moons.

Lydia rolled her head and yawned as she sauntered towered Breezehome. I was thankful to see Horax pull out a key. It had been a while since I stayed in the comfort of a home.

Darkness painted the inside of Horax's house as he shut the door behind me. His house, unsurprisingly, smelled just like him. The flutter of wings and the hum of insects whistled from the corner of the room.

Horax released a stream of flame into the pine wood of the fire pit in the middle of the entryway. The bookshelves of the entryway were lined from end to end. Dozens of herbs dried from the ceiling beams above. Toe nails clicked on the wooden floor above us before traveling down the steps. A shaggy grey dog ran across the diamond tiles of the floor and lept into Horax's awaiting arms.

"Come here, you mutt." The elf ruffled the dog's fur as it placed sloppy wet kisses over his face.

"Meeko!" I squealed. I always considered a dog to be a friendly face.

"Stupid dog." Lydia murmured, dragging herself up the stairs.

Horax stripped down to a pair of olive trousers before falling into the arm chair in front of the fire pit. Lydia tossed a mining shirt downstairs for me to change into before she stripped off her own armor and crawled into bed. It was a little dusty but smelled clean and judging from the loose fit, I guessed it belonged to Horax. I slipped the shirt over my head and shimmied out of my armor underneath it. I pulled a pair of finely stitched fur leggings over my legs.

"Are you aware that there is nothing in your house to eat?" I asked rummaging through the cupboards of the kitchen area. "How is Meeko still alive?"

"We pay that milkdrinker, Lars Battle-born, to feed him while we're away. Meeko is probably the only friend he has in this town."

I kneeled down in front of the fire and rested my chin on Horax's arm.

"What are you going to do?" I asked staring up at his fiery eyes.

"First," The elf pulled me onto the chair, dangerously close to him, "you are going to tell me how you know so much for such a pathetic excuse for an adventurer." He rested his head on the back of his chair and gazed into the leaping flame.

"Do you trust me?"

"Should I?"Horax whispered into my ear sending chills down my body.

"I'm serious," I murmured turning to face him. His lips were curled into a devious smile, eyes burning into mine. The damn elf was testing his vampire captivation magic on me. My stomach fluttered until I was nauseous. "because I trust you."

What was I going to say? The same lie I told Faendal? I sighed. There was no use in lying to the Dragonborn.

"I trust you, Leles." The Altmer's nimble fingers removed the knot at the end of my braid of hair, gently unraveling each strand.

"I'm… I'm not from your world." I stammered.

"Oh." he chuckled. "What are you, a Daedra?"

I shook my head in frustration. "I'm not of Nirn or Mundus, not even Oblivion!" My voice was barely below a yell. I desperately wanted him to understand.

Horax laughed again and tucked my now loose hair behind my ear. "What are you, crazy?"

I hung my head in defeat and leaned against Horax's shoulder. "That too."

Horax and I sat in silence for several minutes listening to the crackle of pine wood. Meeko whined from his rug on the floor.

"I should go out to get something for breakfast later." I stood to my feet and stretched

in front of the fire. My pack rested on the bottom shelf of the cupboard by the door.

"There is nothing open but the Bannered Mare."

"They sell bread and cheese there." I grabbed a brown cloak hanging on the back of a chair and pulled it around my shoulders. I didn't bother grabbing my pack. "It will only be a short while."

I had just stepped onto the stone streets of Whiterun when the door of Breezehome creaked open behind me.

"Leles, take Meeko with you." Meeko scampered out to my side. "And you should take your time."

I cocked my head at the elf who peeked his head out of the doorway.

"There is something I need to attend to."

A few thoughts ran through my head before I decided I wouldn't bother asking.

It was late. Or perhaps it was very early. Either way, it was the hour of night when painted ladies, miscreants, and drunkards took to the streets.

Light and laughter burst from the windows of the Bannered Mare. Meeko sat at the foot of the steps as I proceeded up.

"Come on boy." I slapped the back of my thigh. "You're not letting me go in alone."

The interior of the tavern was remarkably bright. A Redguard barmaid danced about the large fire pit in the center before collapsing on the lap of a mercenary sitting on a bench. Several companions brawled in a corner spilling mead across the table and onto the stone floor. Drunken iron and steel clad warriors sang along with the blonde bard beating his drum and crooning into the honey scented air.

I hugged the walls and attempted to maneuver the perimeter of the room silently and unnoticed. I pressed myself against the wall, attempting to avoid the bards alcohol stained breath as he approached me.

"Well, well." He hiccupped sliding his hand up the wall next to me. " I may not have much of a reputation yet, but I'm working on that one sweet lady at a time." The man lifted my chin in his hand.

"Get away! You're revolting." I objected slapping his hand away.

The tavern roared with laughter as the man stumbled after me. An arm wrapped around my shoulder and turned me around to face the drunk bard.

"Aww, leave her alone, Mikael. She's but a girl." The owner of the mysterious arm chuckled.

Dark sleeves led up to the shaggy black hair of the Breton standing next to me. A pink mask surrounded the man's under eyes and nose. The whites of his blue eyes were bloodshot and veiny. My guess was that he started his drinking early. The man's name didn't pop into my mind. Red lights flashed in my head.

"Every woman is a girl at one point."

The black robed man turned me toward a barstool at the counter.

"Now," He cheered leaning against the counter, "here is a girl that looks like she could use a spot of fun in her life!" The Breton slid a tankard of mead down the counter and into my arm.

I put my hands up and shook my head. "I'm not here to drink."

"And why in Oblivion not? Eeeeeveryone here is doing it and having the time of their life." I gazed about the tavern. The companions I saw earlier now sat on battered chairs sipping on their mead as blood ran down into their tankards. I shook my head again, fairly certain that I was not interested in this version of fun.

I reached for the boiled crème tart in between the mysterious Breton and I. Why did this man look so familiar and why couldn't I put a finger on it? Was I really this tired?

"I'll tell you what." The man pressed my hand to the table. "I have here a special brew. Not to strong and plenty sweet. See if you like the taste."

"What did you say your name was?" I asked as the man pulled a small black bottle out of his robe and placed it on the table.

"I didn't." He popped the cork off and handed the bottle to me.

"Right," I narrowed my eyes and sniffed the bottle. No scent drifted upward.

"Sam Guevenne." He grinned bowing forward slightly.

"Really, Sam. I'm just here to pass the time." I sat on the barstool while Meeko sprawled out across the floor under my feet. "I don't even like the taste of alcohol." A few nosy eavesdroppers howled at my statement.

"You are in Skyrim, aren't you?" Sam narrowed his eyes at me. A subtle tone in his voice hinted that he referred to something beyond what his words were describing. "There's got to be a first time for everything." He pushed the bottle closer to me.

The bottle was light in my hands. I blamed my lack of sleep, whatever gods above, a cruel Daedric prince.

"It's just a small bottle." I mumbled bringing the black glass to my lips. I had never enjoyed the fuity taste of wine or the way whiskey left my mouth warm and tingly. The bitterness of beer made me squeal and I hadn't dreamed of trying the mead. Heavens forbid I actually like it…

Sam stared with wide eyes and an open mouth grin.

"Liar!" I spewed in between a hoarse cough. "That was horrid!" Fire burned down my throat. I gagged on the flavor that lingered on my tongue. The aftertaste of fermented berries and reminiscence of cough syrup stained my mouth.

Sam roared and the barmaid watching from across the room giggled.

"Drink like a Nord, my friend!" Sam grabbed my arm and dragged me to the center of the Tavern. I trailed behind him stumbling and coughing before he lifted me onto a wooden bench.

The eyes of the tavern turned on me. Pink blush rose to my cheeks and I couldn't tell whether it was from the approaching crowd of people or the burning alcohol in my throat. I stepped down from the bench before a burly Nord warrior plucked me back up to the bench. Sam held up another black while Meeko barked from behind the swarm of surrounding people.

I stood in the center of the cheering crowd "No. Sam."

The people around me booed and laughed. Sam simply smiled to me and held the bottle closer to my folded arms.

Again, I picked up the bottle.

_Damn it. Pull yourself together._

"Why am I doing this?"

"For fun! Lighten up! You look as though you fell out of the sky and landed face first in the dirt!"

I sighed, looking into the mouth of the bottle and swirling it. Tiny droplets of golden liquid flew onto my hand.

"Down the hatch." I wheezed sliding the glass between my lips.

* * *

A tankard of mead spilled over my hand while I leaned back on the bench watching Sam lead the drunken companions in a leap across the firepit. My low toleration for alcohol had clearly gotten to my head as the "buzz" escalated to a looping roller coaster. I stood up on the bench, thankful for the barmaid who pushed me back up before I fell over.

"Pfffftt! Sam!" I spittled, honey colored liquid spilling onto the floor. "Mead is pretty swell!"

I gripped my tankard with both hands and gurgled it down. Mead dripped off my chin and onto my clothes. My hair was a long nest bushing over my green eyes. The beat of Mikael's drum pulsed throughout my body. Roaring laughter and howls immersed me in a sea of clammer.

Sam lifted me by my waist and swooped me over to the opposite bench.

"Now, my dear Leles, embrace the debauchee dying to escape and join in the revel of our rabble." Sam's smile seemed inhumanly large. Had I even told him my name? My mind was in too much of an alcoholic swamp to care at the moment.

I smoothed the tangles of hair out of my face and raised an empty tankard into the air. "I wish to join your rumpus." I slurred.

Cheers of drunk joy bellowed throughout the tavern.

"Aye, girly!" A man called from his seat at the table. "Know any songs?"

"Ahem…" I cleared my throat, preparing to belch out one of the only songs somebody else might know."

_Ho hey, sweet lady of Wayrest! Ho Hey sweet lady of Mine!_

Much to my delight, my fellow drunkards recognized the sea shanty and joined in the choir of cacophony.

_Oh, I'll see you again. Yes, I'll see you again, sweet lady of Wayrest so fine!_

I hopped onto the floor and curled up on the bench as the tavern carried on singing. My eyes drooped with the heaviness of sleep. Meeko wobbled over to my knee and whined.

"You know, you're a fun person to drink with." Sam sat down next to my head and patted my back. His fingers were sharp and his callouses snagged on the fabric of my shirt.

"Yeah? Do you sspend all your evenings corrupting young gurrlss?"

Sam ignored my question. "I know this great little place where the wine flows like water. We should head there. "

"Thash grape." I whispered drooling on the bench.


	16. City of Stone

**A/N**

Woot! Thanks a bunch to all my readers. Updates have been slow lately and unfortunately that will continue as I am going back home to visit relatives. I'll be out of the country and have no access to internet for about 11 days. I'll keep writing and hopefully have a bunch to add when I return!

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**Chapter 16: The City of Stone**

Cold stone pressed against my cheek. Puddles of sour tasting drool dribbled from my mouth. A warm wet tongue pressed itself against my cheek and dragged itself up to my eye lid. I gasped and shot my eyes open as Meeko's body weight rolled me over against a wall. The unfamiliar ceiling was carved of stone and glowing orange from the fire torches below. A soft flowery fragrance dangled in the air.

I swallowed a mouthful of sour saliva and allowed my eyes to wander the new view. Red drapes hung in front of long stone tables decorated with food, wine, and bowls of flowers. Once on my knees, I gazed up the small stone steps leading to an octagonal fountain. A strong pounding in my head interrupted my thoughts and made me close my eyes again. My mouth felt like a desert. Sand poured down my throat with every swallow.

"That's right, time to wake up, you drunken blasphemer!" A woman's shrill voice vilified me from behind.

I stood up to face the owner of the voice. The woman was dressed in orange robes and a yellow hood. She stood in between two gray statues of a naked woman whose hair flowed to the base and wrapped around her feet. Why could I not put anything together?

I gazed at the woman in front of me, puzzled expression pieced across my face. I shook my head and opened my dry mouth to ask something, to say sorry, to spit but nothing escaped. The woman leaned her head back and pressed her hand to her forehead.

"I see," She sighed. "You have no idea what I'm talking about. You don't remember fondling the statuary then?"

I squinted my eyes and scratched at my ear. No memories came flooding back.

"I'm guessing you also don't remember coming in here and blabbering incoherently about marriage and a goat."

The woman stared at me, awaiting a sign.

"Which means you don't remember losing your temper and throwing trash all over the temple." The woman folded her arms across her chest

"Temple?" I scratched my head again, pulling out a small clump of hair and a blue dartwing. Both the priestess and I gasped.

"Yes, you have so rudely entered the Temple of Dibella." The priestess curled her lip in disgust.

"And how did I get here?" I asked releasing the winged creature from my hand. The insect soared in the air, maneuvering through the priestess's flailing hands.

"Oh, I'd love to help you figure it out, but I'm so busy cleaning up the mess you've made of our temple." The woman huffed. She stormed off behind a large golden door.

I stood in my place, confused, lost, and feeling rather ill. Since when did I like to drink? Meeko whined and pawed at my leg. Very slowly, memories of last night played through my head.

_Sam!_

I recalled the image of the robed Breton who offered me his "special brew." Laced with poison I bet…

_Sam, Sam. Sam Gueve? Sam Guene? _

Then the name hit me: Sanguine.

_Bloody Hell! I was poisoned by a Daedric Prince!_

The priestess returned as panic ran throughout my body.

"Now," She handed me a bucket and a broom, "if you were to help me tidy up and perhaps apologize afterwards I might be able to help you."

Sometime between cleaning up my dried vomit and picking up shards of broken wine bottle, it came to my realization that I was in possession of nothing but the clothes I was wearing and a small pouch of coin. Everything I had gathered since I arrived in Sykrim was in Breezehome. All of my weapons, armor, even the Dragonstone.

"Wonderful." I sighed, cursing my low tolerance for alcohol. Horax certainly had no reason to come find me. He was at his cozy home in Whiterun minus the odd pestering teenager. Perhaps he would want his dog back…

"Sorry boy. If he isn't coming to get you, I'm not giving you back." I ruffled Meeko's shaggy fur and watched as his tongue rolled out of his mouth.

The priestess quickly shooed me out of the temple and slammed the door behind me. From the fairly useless information the she told me, it was safe to assume that there was no way I was going to walk myself to Rorikstead and investigate my run in with the Daedric Prince. I stood in the chill of Markarth's clear night sky. The roar of the city waterfall flooded my ears. Somewhere in the distance, a poor sod labored over his endless shift in the nearby silver mines. Meeko nudged the back of my knee, urging me to continue forward.

My eyes were too busy gazing at the torch lit Dwemer city to notice the river beneath my feet. I dragged my water filled boots to the doors of the Silver-Blood Inn. Again, the incredible design of Skyrim's city life astounded me. The entire city was chiseled hundreds of years ago by the ancient Dwarves that once roamed Tamriel. I pressed on the Inn door, golden orange from the Dwarven metal.

_Stone bed? Who comes up with these ideas?_

The thick metal door of my rented room trapped cold air within its stone walls. My coin purse sat next to me, noticeably lighter than the day before. I sighed and pushed my hair out of my face. Now, in a new city with no one but my furry friend, I would attempt to make the best of my situation and look for work tomorrow. Perhaps one day I could save up for a horse. Traveling on foot was definitely out of the question.

I rolled over on my small stone slab and tugged at the small fur pelt covering my body. Meeko, with no room left on the "bed", curled up on the floor next to me. I dangled my arm over the edge to scratch behind his ear. He really wasn't missing out on anything.


	17. Balls of Steel

**AN:**

Yay! I'm back and ready to return to writing. I've been brainstorming a lot so I'm prepared for many new chapters!

Thanks to all my readers!

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**Chapter 17: Balls of Steel**

Lydia awakened feeling rather drained and light headed. She gazed around her bedroom, vision disoriented and with a killer sting in her neck. Downstairs, a ruckus of crashing chairs startled her to her feet. She scrambled to the door, falling over once. Horax stood in his underwear pacing the living room and stroking his bald head in panic.

"Bitch!" the elf slammed his hand into the nearby chair, sending it flying into the wall next to it. "She's gone!"

The dark haired Nord shivered in her undergarments and a small shirt. She tucked a loose strand of bedraggled hair behind her ear and slowly proceeded down the stair, hugging the wall with caution.

"What's the matter?" she gazed around the room. Shards of broken glass littered the floor and a broken bookcase sat in the corner.

"That bloody harlot! She stole the Dragonstone and ran off with Meeko!" With one swift movement, the elf grabbed his black cloak and was out the door.

The disoriented Nord tripped up the stairs to her bedroom and threw on dark brown pants and a miners shirt. She splashed her face with the water in her basin and struggled to slip her boots on quickly. After grabbing her sword, she too, was out the door.

Horax spun around in the burning daylight beating down upon Whiterun. His nostrils flared with every turn of his head. Lydia could swear to Akatosh that she saw steam leaping from his skin. Crowds of people bustled about the small market center.

"Have any of you seen a young girl? Imperial decent and shaped like a bean stalk?" Lydia asked, as she could see Horax was to be busy fuming in anger. The two received only blank stares. A few shoppers walked away rapidly. Horax grunted and ran off into the Bannered Mare.

The tavern was a mess, more so than usual. Saadia, the barmaid, mopped what appeared to be blood and vomit in the corner while Mikael was attempting to stabilize a wobbly table.

"You!" An angry innkeeper called from behind the counter. "You're harboring that hellish drunkard! I know it." Hulda shook in rage and waved a finger at Horax. Her reddish brown hair was coming loose from its braided bun. It was even harder to understand her now that she was yelling through her thick Nordic accent. "Look at what she did to my Inn! Her and her devil of a companion."

"Who!" Horax asked. "Where are they?" Had Leles really betrayed his trust and ran off with his belongings?

"Talos knows a hoot! Off to shred the walls off some other tavern I presume."

Horax kicked the ground in frustration. Like usual, he was at a loss of ideas and turned to Lydia for guidance. She closed her eyes and shook her head. The High Elf sighed and turned for the door.

"If you find that girl, tell her she will never ever come back!"

* * *

The two sat on the steps outside of the Bannered Mare. Lydia picked at her finger nails while Horax pulled his cloak down in front of his face.

"You don't think she took the horses too?"

"Shadowmere wouldn't let anyone but I ride her. I know that for a fact."

A slender Nord woman approached the Tavern. Her short red hair was combed neatly and tucked away behind her ears. She smiled at the two on the ground and offered them a flower from her basket.

"Good morning, you two!" She chirped. "Sleep well?"

Lydia was the first to respond, shaking her head violently from side to side.

"I'm not surprised. You look like you journeyed to Oblivion and back in one night."

Lydia wrinkled her nose at the woman's statement. Horax chuckled.

"And you Ysolda? How was your night's rest? Not to lonesome, I hope." The elf beamed.

"Oh, Horax." Ysolda blushed, jokingly placing a purple mountain flower behind his pointed ear. "I just had the strangest night in fact."

Both pairs of ears perked at the statement.

"You don't say? You don't recall a young girl running through these midsts?"

"I do. She claimed to be a friend of yours." Ysolda tugged at a small strand of hair and twisted it as she went on telling her story. "She was drunk as a sailor and rambling on about the oddest of things, mostly incoherent though."

"Huh," Lydia murmered. "I would have never figured our little friend to be much of an alcoholic."

"Just continue on." Horax urged.

"Well," The woman giggled. "She claimed you were the Dragonborn. Imagine that!"

Lydia rolled her eyes.

"That girl owes me quite a bit of gold. She seemed quite young to be getting married, but I let her buy the wedding ring anyway. Oh marriage is a beautiful thing, don't you agree?"

"Marriage!" Horax spat. "She's getting married? To who?"

" Well, she didn't say," Ysolda shifted her basket from her right arm to her left. "The man with her said it was a secret and that invitations would arrive soon enough. I could have sworn he was the husband to be by the way he was holding onto her but now that I think about it, she probably would have crashed to the floor without him. I thought you would know. She spoke so highly of you after all."

"Not a clue in all of Mundus. Do you know anything about the man or where they are now?"

Ysolda tapped her finger on her chin. "She mentioned something about a goat in Rorikstead, probably for her dowry. And as for the man, I've never seen him in my life. He gave me the chills. He had the most sinister eyes I had ever seen."

"Thank you, my dear." Horax rose to his feet and placed a soft kiss on the red heads hand.

"Good luck finding your friend!" She called after them as they ran down the cobblestone streets of Whiterun.

* * *

Once the Giant fell onto its face, Lydia stood with one hand on her hip and scratched her head with the other.

"Are you serious? That shrimp had the guts to steal someone's goat and sell it to a giant?"

Horax pressed his foot against the giant's skull and withdrew his sword. Long strings of blood and brain juice spilled down the giant's grey head.

"She was drunk. Apparently alcohol gives her balls of steel."

A small jingling bell caught Lydia's attention. In a patch of waving gold grass, a tiny goat stood munching on the dry blades.

"Come here." Lydia called from a squatting position, holding out her hand and snapping. "Don't be scared." She smiled and slowly inched forward. "I'm bringing you home to daddy."

The goat continued to munch on its grass, seemingly oblivious to Lydia's calls. The tiny jaws of the goat worked themselves up and down and it's lips spread side to side. Her rectangular pupils shifted to a new spot in the grass farther away from Lydia. She let out a small cry and scurried off.

"Come on girl." Lydia called again, this time crawling closer at a faster pace. The goat faced Lydia and flared its lips before tugging on another mouthful of tall grass. Tiny pellets of feces dropped to the dirt. Lydia lowered her head and sighed.

"By Sithis!" Horax grunted, approaching the goat from behind and plucking it from its spot. The goat screamed, eyes wide in panic as the elf carried her down the hill to the small village below.

"Gleda! My beautiful!" Cried Ennis, the unlucky owner of the goat as he ran from the garden he was plowing. "You tell that friend of yours to keep away from us!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. She was drunk." Horax waved his hands in protest. "You said you'd tell us where she went."

"Most of what she said didn't make sense. But she left a note." The man fished around in his grimy pants pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of paper. "The only part I could read said, 'after repaying Ysolda in Whiterun.'"

"Are you joking!" Horax hissed, plucking the Redguard by the collar and lifting him to eye level. "I already knew that!"

"I swear! That's all I know!" the man screamed. A few guards glanced over before recognizing Horax and deciding it wasn't worth it.

"Horax!" Lydia yelled.

The elf groaned and released the man. The farmer fell to his knees and grabbed his throat through hoarse coughing.

"We might as well be at square one!"

Lydia shrugged her shoulders. "Ask him about the man."

Horax turned to find Ennis. The only view he saw was the back of the farmer running up the street, a tiny goat in his trail.


	18. Sober

**Chapter 18: Sober**

Markarth quite literally had its ups and downs. After walking its many steps on a daily basis, I was still unsure of what to think of the city. The skyscraping stone architecture tucked the city safely away while the silver mines ensured its wealth. The cascading waterfall bled into several smaller rivers that branched throughout Markarth. Yes, Markarth's beauty was undeniable. And so was its corruption.

Citizens held their tongues outside of their houses. Even the slightest breathes of protest against the Silver-Blood family was a threat to one's life. Not to mention speaking word of the Forsworn, which was practically forbidden by common law. Even the guards were hush hush.

Despite it all, I was glad to be in Markarth and not crippled and vomiting on the side of the road. Meeko and I barely scraped by. The two of us made use of ourselves at the stable. I was thankful that the animals in Skyrim acted similar to those on Earth (the ones that existed on Earth anyway). Although I had to admit, Meeko and Vigilance did love the spot under the doorframes more than any other dogs I have ever met. Cedran was impressed with my knowledge of horses and agreed to let me tend to the less appealing horse care. The pay was small but, coin was coin an at least I wasn't sleeping in the horse hay.

Meeko would often wake me in the night with tiny whimpers and convulsions in his sleep. He missed Horax and quite honestly, so did I. Although we only travelled for a few days together, I found myself very attached to him. It certainly wasn't because of his looks since I never was one to fawn over vampires. It wasn't because of his personality because I've felt more welcome on a bed of nails than riding horseback with him. Perhaps I was just drawn to the fact that he was the Dragonborn, a fictional character that I had made dozens of. His path was one of the only ones I could possibly walk along the edges of because I knew where it was going.

In order to avoid stepping on anymore toes, I volunteered my ample free time to helping with the mundane about the town. Meeko and I ventured out into the reach after work to collect ingredients for Bothela at the Hag's Cure. I cleaned and washed around the Inn, my temporary shelter. Several days a week, I ran offerings from busy citizens to the Temple of Dibella. The priestesses made sure I didn't touch anything pricey and on occasion they would ask me if I had any luck finding my friend, Sam. I had been alone in Markarth for almost a month now and the last thing on my check list was to consult with a Daedric Prince.

* * *

Blue petal juice stained my fingers as I sat in my hay pile pressing the pestle violently into the mortar over and over again. Somehow this mess of wheat, flowers, and butterfly wings was supposed to be extracted to create a healing potion. How this was going to happen, I had no idea. Hopefully all the glass tubes and bottles would just be connected to the right places and we could call it a day. A young colt wobbled closer to his mother at the sound of approaching horses.

I rose from my spot and wiped my blue hands on my grey, originally white, shirt. Hurriedly, I swept the loose hay into its pile and stowed the rakes and shovels behind the stalls and out of sight.

"Good afternoon!" I called without turning around as I pulled the drawstrings loose from a bag of apples. "Stalls for two?"

Upon catching sight of the jet black horse followed by a bay, I immediately recognized the incoming riders. The elf rose in his saddle and squinted his eyes.

"Horax!" The apples from my bag spilled onto floor as I ran to greet the elf.

The elf's face spread into a cheery grin, nestling under his pronounced cheek bones. He slid from his seat and leaped toward me. My stomach jumped as I stood waiting, grinning from ear to ear.

"Meeko! There's my handsome boy!"

My cheeks grew alarmingly red as I dropped my awaiting arms. Lydia sauntered over to me and handed me her reigns.

"Don't get too far now, string bean."

* * *

One feeling I never got used to was stone under my sitbones. No matter what amount of shifting I did, my stone bed was never comfortable. Horax entered my small tavern room and set a mug down on the table. Meeko dragged his tongue through the air as he followed his master to his seat across the room.

Lydia as well, adjusted her seating several times before she slipped her hands under her rear. "So, where is it?"

"What?"

"Come on, Leles." Horax cocked his head to the side. "We tracked you all the way to Markarth. No more games."

"I… I know it's hard to believe," I raised my hands in defense. "but I happen to a have no recollection of what I have done."

"No recollection huh." Horax whispered. I hated his whispers.

"Why don't I help you recollect your memories?" The elf flew from his seat and pinned my back to the hard stone bed.

"You stole my dog, got banned from a tavern that can handle the Companions, stole a man's goat and sold it to a giant, almost married a Hagraven, and stole the dragonstone from my own bloody house!" His sharp fangs snapped right at my eye level. Drops of saliva spilled down my face. Lydia reached over for Horax's tankard and sipped while she watched with blank expression.

"Get off!" I cried tugging at my restrained wrists.

"Remember anything?" He growled. I wriggled under his body weight .

"No! It wasn't me." He threw his glance down to my face. Once again, I was too close to his fiery glare and icy grip. I shut my eyes tight and squealed.

Horax tilted his head to the side. Footsteps from the Inn workers attempted a quiet shuffle as they approached their door. We both remained still. He withdrew himself from atop me and returned to his seat casting a glare at Lydia and his now half empty tankard.

"Okay Leles. Amuse me." He folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes. "Who was it that took our Dragonstone. Our dear Mara mother mild?"

I didn't bother to rise from my sprawled out position on the bed. "What is the color of night?"

"What are you playing at?" All humor in his voice melted away and disappeared in between the cracks in the floor.

"Sanguine, my brother." I whispered barely above my breath, knowing his inhuman senses would pick it up.

The room grew dangerously quiet.

"What did she say?" Lydia asked softly.

Horax left the room, followed by the clicking toenails of his faithful companion. Lydia quickly switched seats and creaked in the wooden chair. " The mead really scrambled your egg, huh."

I nodded as I lay on my back. "I blame alcohol and Daedric Princes."

Horax returned and set a cup next me on my bed before leaning back on his hands which rested on the table.

"It's just tea." Horax assured me, taking a sip from his own mug. "Rule number one," he paused to lick his lips "No alcohol for you. Ever."

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A/N

I'm having so much fun writing this and even more knowing that you are enjoying my story! The reviews always encourage me to write more. And don't worry, we'll be seeing more of Jolly Old Sanguine soon enough!


	19. What Happens in Morvunskar

**Chapter 19: What happens in Morvunskar**

"Don't you think you owe me an explanation?" The voice drifted in front of me drifted over my head like the setting sun.

Of course now that I was in the company of Horax, a distinct and unnoticeable shift in my sleeping pattern was about to occur.

"No, I really don't." I turned my head to gaze at the collection of falling snow.

"Leles. You know what I am."

"Sure, a fool in Altmer's clothing."

"This isn't a joke." The elf sighed. "If you were anyone else I'd kill you."

"Even Lydia?"

Horax paused for a while. Snowflakes caught on the creases of his hood. "No."

I smiled against his now familiar robe.

"Just tell me how. It almost scares me. I don't get."

I sat up straight and shimmied closer before wrapping my arms around the elf's waist. The wind was beginning to nip at my ears which slightly protruded through my loose brown hair. My nose was surely bright pink. Even those his body wasn't warm anymore, at least it shielded me from the snowfall.

"I told you I'm not from your world."

"That doesn't explain..." Horax began his whining.

"It's how I know. It's just...how." I was too tired to attempt another explanation of this situation to him.

"You must be a daedra sent to torture me." He cackled into the Skyrim winds.

"Sure."Daedra were from another plane of existence. I suppose that was close enough. I buried my face in the collar of my fur coat.

The pace of the horse behind us began to quicken. Lydia rode up to our side. A think fur hood shrouded her head from the falling snow. She pulled down a brown cloth that masked her nose and mouth. "Are we anywhere closer to that fort? I can't see anything in this snow"

"Neither can I. I have no idea where we're going." The elf confessed.

I pulled away from Horax and stared wide eyed at Lydia.

"What?"

"Every time I ask, Horax. Every time." She cocked her head and pursed her lips before Horax replied to her stare with a toothy grin. The Nord pulled her mask over the bridge of nose and rolled her eyes.

"It's like an internal compass." He chirped in delight. "Points me straight every time."

"Every time." Lydia grumbled through the mask. "I swear you've got something watching over you Horax."

Horax turned to the Nord and smiled until his cheekbones popped. His eyes twinkled in the glowing twilight. "Of course. You are Lydia."

Lydia pulled her hood tighter around her face in attempt to cover the blooming rose of her cheeks. "I mean something divine." her muffled voice softened. "Or something stupid enough to keep you alive for so long."

"I second that one." I squeaked.

* * *

All three of us were cloaked in nightfall when we approached the ruins of Fort Morvunskar. Horax let out a whistle as he took the in the spectacle of decay.

"You sure this is where the Hagraven said it was?" Lydia asked, eyeing the crumpled stone and bits of charred wood.

"Well, its a lovely venue for a lovely bride." Horax stepped forward slowy, testing the crunch of snow under his feet and kicking over a dead mage.

Lydia slapped me on my back before following in her Thane's lead. "You sure know how to pick 'em."

I scurried off after the two as they pulled open the door of the ruined fort.

"Wait here." Lydia pressed a hand against my chest as she turned and hurried down the dark hall.

I waited patiently but the more I thought about what lied ahead, the more my stomach threatened to empty itself. I was about to come face to face with an ungodly being capable of damning my soul to an eternity in the sinful cesspool he calls home. Everything about Sanguine was against my very young and naive soul: Lust, Sloth, Greed, and Gluttony.

Horax's call interrupted my thoughts. "Leles!" I darted around the different rooms, tripping over a dead body or two. "I think this is what we're looking for. Am I right?"

Before us stood a great shimmering light. The rays danced in beams, constantly changing length. I shivered out of fear and anxiety.

"Shall we?" I mumbled, saliva dribbling from my numbing mouth.

Horax didn't bother breaking his stare before shoving me into the gleaming portal.

A patch of dewy grass broke my fall as I landed on my back. Tiny orbs of light twinkled above me. The sound of flowing water and laughter filled the heavy air.

"Is this real?" Lydia called as she stepped out the portal completely in control of her person. "I have a bad feeling about this."

My knees shook violently as I rose to my feet and brushed the droplets of water off of my face. Horax emerged with a wonderfully childlike expression on his face. "It's like a dream in here!"

I wobbled ahead of my companions as they gazed into their misty surroundings. Music grew louder and louder with each step. Finally the three of us approached our destination. Dozens of drunk men and woman danced about a large table covered in alcoholic beverages and and piled high with cheese wheels. Several men shouted louder as we entered the scene and fell over in their chairs.

"Hey!" Horax shouted, his beam still shinning brighter than should be healthy for a vampire. He pointed towards the party. "That doesn't look bad at all! What are you worrying about?"

"Oblivion!" I cried. "I'm in Oblivion! I'm about to be damned to live in eternal sin!" I tugged at my hair and shook in my spot.

Horax grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the cheese table. "No way! It's paradise! This is great!"

My eyes bounced about the garden party, desperately searching for the Daedric prince that was about to rip the innocence from my soul.

"Lelly, my dear! Care for a spot of tea? It's made with baby tears and Milk from Mara's own teat! Imagine how hard that was to get!" I gasped as the shrill Scottish accent that blared in my ears.

"Not yet, you old coot!" The horned Daedra appeared in a swirl of black and red smoke.

"Woops! Cat's out of the bag! Who puts cats in bags anyhow? Cats hate bags."

Horax spun around, mouthful of cheese dribbling open as he caught a glimpse of the two Daedric Princes. Air couldn't fill my lungs fast enough and soon I doubled over, unconscious and cold.

Lydia squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose in confusion."What in Oblivion?

* * *

**A/N:**

Heh, figured my plotholes probably needed some explaining since I didn't quite clarify them. 'Tis a fanfiction so I purposely made changes. Perhaps I shall adjust some chapters or add an explanation later. Thanks for reading!


	20. Dinner at the Daedra's

**Chapter 20: Dinner at the Daedras**

Horax, being the kind friend he is, decided to awaken me with a bucket of water before either of the Daedric Princes chose another mean of awakening.

"You're here." The lord of mischief smiled through rows of sharp white teeth. "And I was beginning to think you'd never make it." He held his large taloned hand out in front of me

I slapped the claw away instinctively. Sheogorath hissed at me as a bottle flew to his feet.

"You've had your bit of fun, Sanguine." My wet hair dragged down my face before I parted it to view the being in front of me. "This prank is over and I'd rather we skip the formalities."

"A prank. Oh, Leles. You of all should know that I, Daedric Prince of Debacuhery, do not dabble in pranks."

Sheogorath pounded the ground with his long wooden cane. "Snooty Earth dweller. Do ya really think you can just skip pass your dear, dear uncles?"

Both Lydia and Horax drew closer to me as if expecting an explanation.

"You see," Sanguine smiled. " we threw this here party for you."

With a snap of Sheogorath's fingers, we were gone from the misty grove. Our quintuplet now stood in a foggy clearing. A young blonde man sat at the only table within the empty landscape.

"Ah, seems I've made a wrong turn. Pelly, my dear, perhaps we might borrow your mind for another rendezvous." the Prince turned to his company. "You can just smell the paranoia." He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. "Just like home! What a lovely slice of pie this mind would make."

With another snap, I opened my eyes to a new room. This time indoors. Small streams of blue light entered through the thin stained windows. The stone room was dimly lit by rows of braziers. The architecture was completely symmetrical. We stood on a stone nave that was lower than the rest of the room, which was lined with great stone arches and columns. On the left half of the room, orange fire pits burned while directly opposite them, blue flame lept from it's pit. The long running carpet we stood on was split between red and blue right down the middle. Two small rivers ran alongside a giant tree behind Sheogorath, who sat upside down in his throne. He opened his arms, accepting us into the chilling welcome of his home.

I continued to stare at the tree. It's luminescent orange pods and blue fungus matched the divided color scheme of the rest of the room. Sanguine hopped down from a high branch and motioned for us to turn around. A beautifully crafted stone table sat in the center of the small nave. Empty silver plates and goblets awaited us at our seats. I looked to meet someones view when I realized none of us were wearing our armor anymore.

Lydia gasped as she gazed down to her red finery. The Daedric Princes had even cleaned the blood and dirt from battle off of her face. Half of her black hair was sectioned off into intricate braided loops that were pinned to the back of her head while the rest dangled in tight corkscrew curls. Her Lips were stained ruby red to match her glimmering dress. Soft grey eyeliner lined the lashlines of her blue eyes. Her shiny dress plumed out on the sides in wisps, like long light feathers. Her sleeves belled out in the same style. The Nord fingered the laces of the corset in the front of her dress and blush rose to her pale cheeks as she eyed the ample amount of cleavage that returned her stare. She looked absolutely stunning in her gown.

Both Lydia and I turned to Horax. He too, was in a new suit. His metallic black finery was unison in color except for the small golden buttons lining the chest plate and protruding shoulder pads. A small ruffle of leather fanned out across his sternum like a decorative bib. He stretched his long thin neck in attempt of adjustment to his new collar. Even his eyes were lined with back kohl.

The dress on my body was heavy and weighed me down significantly. I pulled at my purple sleeves, which were identical to Lydia's except in color. Pressing my index and middle fingers to my lips, I withdrew a smooth peach color. I licked my lips. It tasted like honey. I placed a hand to my chest and pulled my dress up. My body was virtually devoid of any female curves and my flat chest was feeling rather uncomfortably visible.

"Seat's are for sitting, No?" Sanguine asked as he pulled out a chair on one end of the table. "This is your chair, dear. It is your party."

I wobbled over to the chair and pulled the voluminous dress into my lap as I sat down. Sanguine pushed me in and took his seat across from Lydia and Horax. His bulky frame in his even bulkier armor easily took up two seats.

"I do wish you'd dress more festively, Sanguine. "Sheogorath shook his cane in the air as he gently walked across the table and to the seat opposite me. His Daedra silk suit shimmered in the firelight. "And you should just see the strawberry torte we have for dessert! But don't look it's a surprise! and only Madmen eat dessert before dinner!"

Everyone had taken their seats. Sheogorath hummed to himself while Sanguine had already began to nurse a bottle of some rather vile looking alcohol. The three of us who were not from Oblivion were deathly quiet. Horax squinted his eyes and glanced between the two Daedra and scantily dressed females guarding the doors. Lydia sat with her mouth open and eyes wide as the sun. Given that a few months ago I woke up in my video game, I was beginning to get the idea that these strange occurrences were going to become regular.

"What?" He barked replying to our stares. "What kind of party would this be if I was sober? How about a drink my friends?"

Horax's mood seemed to lift dramatically as the Daedra handed him a flowing goblet of red liquid. He struggled to keep the wine from spilling over the sides as he slurped from the lip of the cup. His eyes followed three dancers as they entered the room waving their skirts and beating small tambourines.

"Where is the dragonstone?" I finally squeak. "We really need to be getting on our way."

Horax snapped his head at my words and coughed in protest. "Now, now. Let's not be ungrateful."

Sanguine's cackle echoed off the walls. "A true brother of Sanguine, he is!"

The elf beamed at me like a school boy who received his first gold star.

"After everything you've been through, you ask that question?" Sheogorath scowled at me through his slit pupils.

"Do you... How do you know?"

"My dear," The Prince boomed. "They don't call me Lord of the Never There because I'm never there. It's because I'm always there! Inside each and every one of us, even me."

"Allow us to relieve you of your troubles, Leles. Although booze does the same thing, you know."

I pulled back on my slightly curled brown hair. It was soft as of now although it hadn't been washed in 4 days.

"All of us are gathered here today," Sanguine raised his hands to the ceiling. "for our grand celestial purposes brought to you by none other than yours truly." he nodded his head at Sheogorath who slowly clapped his hands.

"Well except for you, Lydia."

The Nord blushed once more.

"But don't worry!" Sanguine ensured. "We enjoy your company no less."

"I don't understand. You brought me into Skyrim?"

"That much was my doing, Lass" Sheogorath called from across the table, hand sincerely over his heart. "I plucked you out of your world like a small feather floating midst the dust."

My jaw dropped. I was a Daedra's play toy.

"Don't look so shocked now. Your mind was but rrrottting away in that vapid wasteland of a world."

Several servants filed through the doors carrying platter of steaming food. Horax eagerly watched as a man placed roasted chickens and broiled fish on the table. He may have been a vampire, but he ate food like it was his job.

"Rotting away?" I sneered, slightly offended.

"Literally! Your body was spread like jam on the pavement after that car crash. Don't you remember?"

Lydia eyed the bowl of unfamiliar blue fruit in front of her. "What is a car?"

My body was frozen. Ice flowed through my veins. Flesh had hardened to stone.

"I'm dead?" The words dribbled out of my mouth.

"No, dear, no. I don't harbor ghosts. You're as live as the fungus between your toes!"

Sanguine rested his elbows on the table and lazily gazed at my petrified face. Horax mumbled through a mouthful of baliwog leg.

"I don't get it."

Sanguine unfolded his arms and lifted his mug to his thin black lips.

"Like I said, we are all here for a very special reason." The prince beckoned a servant to his side. The shrively woman placed a whole roast pig in front of him, apple and all. "You see, sometimes certain events within our realm end up awry. Awry as in they land in another dimension."

I slumped down in my chair and swallowed a very dry mouthful. "What events?"

The hulking beast ripped off a leg and tugged on its skin with his teeth. "The two of you happen to be our 'champions' if you will. My good brother and I decided to whip up a little havoc and mayhem down in Tamriel."

Lydia bit into a large acolasia fruit. "What in the Gods name?" I couldn't tell whether she was referring to her fruit or the sheer ridiculousness of our situation.

"What, why?" I stammered attempting to wrap my head around the new title.

"Aww, well I'm sorry, dearie I do apologize. It's just that after an eternity, we sometimes find ourselves suddenly and irrevocably BORED!" the Madgod slammed his fists on the table. Lydia who was sitting the closest, jumped in her seat and spittled out a mouthful of wine. Sanguine chuckled and winked at her.

I turned to face Sanguine. Sheogorath really needed no reason for his actions. He had none in his head.

"What do you mean champion?"

"Just look at Horax. He's the embodiment of personal indulgence: Murder, sex, and booze. Everything we love." The two of us looked at Horax, who was currently drooling over both the food, and the dancers skimpy outfits. "Well, everything I love. He is my champion, after all."

"And what about myself? I feel fairly normal."

"Ah, such a shame about your case." The Madgod waved a wedge of cheese in the air. "I'm afraid my influence didn't carry over very well in your world. Outrageous security checks, you see."

"Mhm." I mumbled, piecing my new origins together.

"I was hoping all the gizmos and gadgets we placed in your world would trigger your blood."

"My blood?"

"No my blood!" The white haired man cried. "That runs alongside yours. The little voice in your mind that urges you to rip the intestines out of your neighbors and braid their sinews into jump rope."

"I'm not sure that..."

"And the Divines allow this kind of rabble?" Horax wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Of course!" Sanguine cried, tossing his mug over his shoulder and grabbing the nearest bottle of alcohol. "Akatosh made you Dragonborn didn't he?"

"So i'm allowed to just waltz back home after everything I know?"

"You're a child of Sheogorath! They can't keep you." Sheogorath's smile soured. "No more questions. They interrupt the talking in my mind."

I sat silent and stared at the Man across the table as he rubbed his temples.

"Great, now I'll have to do the fishstick. It always soothes when the rough gets going."

I turned to Sanguine as he nodded and offered me the apple from the roast pigs mouth.

* * *

Dinner was successful in stuffing me till I was immobile. The dessert was, to quote Lord Sheogorath, "as divine as Dibella's nipples."

Sheogorath and Sanguine insisted we stay the night and given that we had no way out of the Shivering Isles, we were only too happy to agree. Horax and Sanguine sat at the table laughing over God knows what while Lydia and I made our way to our rooms.

Despite the rather shocking news that I had just learned, I couldn't help but feel like none of my problems were getting solved. Instead of pouring over the numerous questions, I turned over in my bed to face the mounted hunger head and wish it a better sleep than what I was about to have.


	21. Circus Sideshow

**Chapter 21: Circus Sideshow**

I told myself that I really shouldn't have been surprised when I didn't wake up in the Shivering Isles. Instead, my dear uncles thought it would be much more convenient to dump us in a musty prison cell along with a skeletal mangy old man.

Lydia was sitting against the wall rubbing her head. Horax was nestled on the frayed and stained bedroll with our cellmate. A shiny object in my peripheral view caught my attention.

"It appears your friends left you a present." Lydia grumbled standing to her feet.

Two staves stood against the prison wall. In between them, a black slab of stone lay on the ground.

_The Dragonstone!_

I had completely forgotten about the entire reason we had gone out of our way to track down a Daedric Prince. I crawled over to Horax and shook him by his shoulders. He rolled into his sleeping companion who mumbled at me angrily and scurried off to another corner of the cell.

"Wake up." I whimpered as the elf pulled his cloak over his head.

"Try again when night falls." came the voice underneath.

"In case you haven't noticed," Lydia jeered as she leaned against the wall. "we are stuck in prison."

Horax groaned and ran his hands down his face before rising to his knees. "Ah! I know exactly where we are."

Lydia and I stared at him, awaiting an answer.

"Deep Shit. What's that over there?" Horax shuffled over to the Daedric weapons resting against the wall. "Some party favors huh." He ran his slender finger along the thorn of Sanguine's rose. "Clearly, Sanguine left this one for me." The elf tossed the Wabbajack into my hands." I bet this is what you'll look like in a little while."

"That's so kind of you." I sneered, carefully tracing the intricate carvings of the screaming man's teeth.

"Here Lydia, this must be for you." He slid the dragonstone over to her feet. The Nord rolled her eyes before bending over and sliding it under her arm.

"Ok, Jailbird," Lydia began, as I made my way to the door of the cell. "What's the plan?"

"I'm sure we could just ask the guard. He should know that we aren't supposed to be in here." I gripped the bars of the cell and watched as a guard dressed in red stopped in front of a neighboring cell. I waved my hand through the bars.

"Oh please. Good luck with that." Horax turned his staff over in his hands. "What do you suppose these do?"

Lydia watched in caution. "I don't think you should go waving that around."

The solitude guard slowly wobbled his way over to our cell. "Hey, what are you three doing in there."

"Well," I smiled, trying to find his eyes within his steel helmet. "as you can see, there has obviously been some sort of a mistake and..."

The guard ignored my plea and slowly walked away.

"Hey! Wait! You're supposed to uphold justice! This is clearly a mistake!" I clung to the bars and pressed myself against them as close as possible.

"Listen girl." the guard took a few steps back. "I have to listen to you and your prisoner problems every damned day. My cousin's out fighting dragons and what do I get? Guard duty." The Guard shook his head at me before looking up towards Horax, who had just picked up my wabbajack. "What's that you've got in your hands elf?

Horax shrugged and pointed the tip of the wabbajack at the guard. "Want to see what it can do?"

"Don't point that at me! That's a Daedric artifact" I screamed.

The Guard jumped backward. "A daedric artifact! By the law of Solitude you better hand that over."

The Altmer pulled the staff in closer. "Not a chance in Nirn, my friend."

"Tell you what," The guard lowered his voice and beckoned us closer. "you give me that there staff and I'll let you be on your merry way. Not another word of it."

The guard pressed his helmet against the cell door. Horax squinted his eyes. A bit of black kohl was still smudged about his lower lashline. He glared directly into the holes of the guards helmet, grinning until his upper lip pulled up, revealing his sharp white teeth. With one swift movement, he blasted a red light into the guard. A cloud of red exploded from his form until the only thing standing in front of us was a pile of armor and a helmet.

"By the God's Horax! what have you done?" Lydia screamed as she ran to the cell door.

All of us, including the gangly prison mate, gathered at the gate as we stood awestruck by the power of the Daedra. A tiny wiggle underneath the red tabbard of the armor made us gasp. A tiny brown rabbit hopped out of the clothing and pranced around on the floor.

"See if you can reach his keys." Lydia advised as I dropped to my knees and reached my hand through the bars. The tiny bundle of brown hopped over to me and nipped my finger.

"Ouch!" I pulled my hand in as a small trickle of blood dripped from my finger.

"Hey Leles, feel like doing some hunting?" Horax nudged me.

It really didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

* * *

As it turned out, our prison cell had a very weak walls and fortunately for us, the strange old man in our cell went on a rampage soon after he witnessed the work of a Daedric Prince. I quietly stepped over the unconscious man's body as I followed Horax and Lydia down the secret escape route. Horax handed me the wabbajack and proceeded to climb the dingy ladder. I fastened the staff around my back and followed suit.

"Are we fugitives now? I asked, emerging into the shade of an alley way.

"My reasoning says no." Lydia announced, helping me out of hole. "Given that we were never arrested."

"That we know of." Horax quickly replied slipping Sanguines rose onto his back. "Did we have business in Solitude?" He asked, straitening his robes and turning to Lydia.

"No." I responded before the Nord could open her mouth. "We need to get the Dragonstone to Farengar."

"I thought the whole reason I had to chase you down was because you were trying to keep it away from him."

I slumped down against the wall of the house. A bush of nightshade grew from the mossy crack in between the ground and the house. My mind was now in a state of ambivalence. If Horax deliver's the dragonstone, he was going to discover his true nature. If I tried to keep him from it, he would flick me off like a bug and I would be on my own once again. Not to mention he would deliver it anyway.

"I've kept you from this too long." I picked at the purple leaves of the nightshade plant and brought it to my nose.

"From what exactly?"

"Sanguine confirmed you were the Dragonborn remember?" he nodded his head. "When you deliver the Dragonstone, you will trigger an event that unlocks your true gift: The Dragon blood in your veins given to you by Akatosh himself."

"And you know this because you are from 'Earth'? I don't understand. Is it just common knowledge there?"

I shook my head. "No... no. It's, well it's all in a game."

Horax cocked his head and Lydia crossed her arms across her chest.

"Our world is a game to you?"

"No, not quite, I..." This was becoming rather difficult to explain. I gazed to the faces of the two in front of me. At least nobody was freaking out. "whatever character you create is the dragonborn and you just sort of, um, make them do stuff."

"You created me?"

"No not at all. I have had no part in your life until i took the dragonstone." I chewed on my fingernails. I had made myself as confused as the two tamriel natives.

Horax peeked around the corner and returned to Lydia's side."But from what the Daedra have implied, this is a completely different dimension, a unique reality separate from yours."

"Apparently. You see, not everything is identical to the game. And everyone here lives by their own free will." Lydia coughed and cleared her throat before throwing a sharp glare at Horax.

The Nord shifted her weight to her other foot. "Then what was all the knowledge you learned in your, uh, game?"

I sat silent for a while and then stood to my feet. "I suppose it was uh, like a prophecy?"

"Well, then it's settled." Horax spread his arms wide and grinned, pulling both Lydia and myself to his side. "Here we have it, our lovely little freak show, The fortune teller, the strongman, and the beautiful showgirl. What are we missing?"

Lydia rolled her eyes and lifted Horax's scrawny arm over her head. "A dancing bear."

The elf opened his eyes wide and snapped his fingers. "Meeko, Meeko can most definitely do it."

And then the three of us set off, scurrying about in the awakening sunrise, eager for our next performance.


	22. Girls night

**Chapter 22: Girl's Night**

"We're stopping in Morthal?" I pulled my fur shawl over my shoulders. "What for?"

The eerie marshes surrounding Morthal were not a fun place to be spending ones time. Every now and then, I would take a step in deep waters and end up thigh deep in mud. Very slowly, we dragged our boots through the swamp.

"Well we have to hold up somewhere, don't we?"

Lydia groaned. "So he says. If we pushed on for a few more hours, we'd be able to make it to Drelas cottage before morning broke."

A beat up shack came into view. Deathbells and Nightshade sprouted from different bushes surrounding the property.

"Look! We could even stay there."

Horax and I exchanged solemn looks. The elf darted ahead of me as he broke the stare. I stopped and waited for Lydia to catch up.

"What's so important in Morthal?" I asked her, my voice hushed to a whisper.

"My Thane takes a fancy to a young lady who lives there." she beckoned me closer and whispered in my ear. "She's a bit of a floozy in my opinion."

"Not a floozy!" Horax called from a good 20 meters ahead.

Lydia grumbled under her breath and proceeded forward. I was beginning to feel as though there was some tension regarding Lydia, Horax, and this mystery woman. I don't know. Maybe that was just me.

* * *

Lydia sat in the bed with her arms crossed over her chest, eyes glaring at the door of our small rented room. I glanced up from my seat on the floor and closed the book in my lap.

"So are Horax and this girl... exclusive?" I questioned very carefully.

The dark haired woman blinked at me a few times before tossing her head back in boisterous laughter. "Horax!" She cackled. "Exclusive? Did the title of Sanguine's Champion not stick in your head?"

I furrowed my eyebrow and the Nord. "Then what's so special about this girl? Why can't he just give you a tumble?"

Lydia stopped her laughing at once and shot me a daggers. Blush creeped into my cheeks as I returned my focus to the book sitting on my legs. I managed to leaf through a few more chapters before Lydia cleared her throat and turned onto her side. She ruffled her black hair and squinted her eyes at me.

"I'm going to tell you this because I know you care for Horax. I don't trust this girl he keeps seeing."

_Oooh gossip._

I closed my book and crawled over to Lydia's bedside. I never had so called 'girl talk' back home. Given that I spent most of my time playing video games and rummaging through the backwoods alone, it was no surprise.

"I bet she's been with over half the men here in Morthal. Rumor is," she pulled herself closer to me. "she seduced a man into burning his house down while his wife and daughter were still inside."

I cursed under my breath. Although Lydia's rumors weren't exactly true, I knew exactly the girl Horax was chasing after.

"You don't say?" I put on the best shocked look I could manage. "and what's her name."

"Alva, sounds like the name of an old woman, huh."

I nodded my head. I suppose Lydia was not to far off after all.

"You know what, Horax sucks the fun out of everything. Why don't we celebrate his absence," Lydia reached into the night stand and pulled out a bag of coin. "just you and I."

Alcohol was one of the last things I wanted to put into my body. Lydia continued to stare at me and smile. Her blue eyes swam with loneliness and a hint of desperation. I accepted the bag already regretting my decision.

* * *

Within the few hours since I had bought the first bottle of wine, Lydia managed to down 3/4 of a bottle more by herself. My wine slid back and forth in it's goblet as I sat at the end of her bed listening to her ramble on about her clear signs of emotional neglect.

"Sometimes I just don't think he acknowledges that I'm a woman." She waved her hands in the air, droplets of wine slipping onto the bedsheets. " and not a pack mule."

I nodded sympathetically. Poor thing, always tossed around by her bone-head of a Thane. I never realized how lonely Lydia must have been when she spent all her time with a man who had the emotional depth of a teaspoon. Quite a bit of anger was bottled up inside.

"Hey," She slurred and sniffed the air. "You want to buy some food? I swear I smell apple pie."

"No," I patted the blankets over her legs. "No, I think we're good." I didn't know what Lydia had eaten today, but I wasn't at all tempted to find out.

"And what's with this Alva? She's the only girl he keeps coming back to." Lydia narrowed her eyebrows at me. "You haven't even touched your wine!"

"Of course I have!" I drew the cup to my lips and pretended to drink. Lydia smiled widely at me.

"Oki." She reached for her bottle and shakily poured the wine into her mug. I set my goblet down on the trunk behind me before turning to face a drunken and unconscious Lydia nestled deep into her pillows, red wine flowing down her chest.

"Ak!" I shrieked ripping the blankets off her body. Very carefully, I tugged the corners of her shirt up to collect the spilling alcohol until it absorbed into the thin fabric. The inn manager offered me a clean rag as I implicitly tried to explain the matter of my situation. Returning to the now slumbering Nord, I slowly peeled the wet clothes off her chest and over her head, dabbing at the drops of red that remained underneath.

"Dibella's tits! What did I miss?"

"Get out, you pig!" I screamed, hurling the wine soaked cloth at the chuckling elf.

* * *

All through the night, I was stuck staring at Horax's stupid grin. Neither one of us wanted to spend the night in Lydia's bed after he explained that wine had a tendency to "kick Lydia in the ass and out her mouth." I still felt bad for the girl and knowing what activities Horax had just completed, was rather disgusted with the fact that I was sharing his bed.

"Stop touching me." I grumbled, lighting a small lantern on the night stand.

"Like I would want anything from a thirteen year old." The elf sneered.

"I'm not thirteen and at least I don't act like a youth stuck in a bout of raging testosterone."

Horax didn't respond beyond the burning of his orange eyes. I felt them through the back of my head as i turned away."How old are you anyway?"

"70"

"70?" I repeated in doubt. "I'm calling horse shit."

"Call it what you will but I've seen 70 springs." The elf replied matter-of-factly.

"Then why do you act so... juvenile?"

"Well," He said, stretching his arms uncomfortably close to my head. "Mer can live on for centuries. We can afford to be young for a little longer."

I lay quiet in my bed. The thought did seem to make sense but honestly, most elves seemed to take the time to perfect the art of the arcane or battle. To be fair, Horax was a talented mage and apparently a very high ranking member of the dark brotherhood (although how high, I hadn't dared to ask). What he most seemed to perfect was the art of running around and sticking his early riser into everything with a pair of X chromosomes.

"Listen, " I murmured turning to face his bare chest. Tiny swirls of chest hair made a sporadic appearance but it seemed he kept himself mostly clean shaven. "You should know something about Alva."

"Oh great, Lydia's been running her mouth. I don't need to hear it. I can take care of myself." He turned onto his side to face me. My body stiffened under his stare. He was probably doing it on purpose, I told myself. Trying to shut me up...

"Don't you ever wonder where you contracted Sanguinaris Vampiris?"

The elf narrowed his white eyebrows at me. "From anywhere. I spend half my time crawling through strange forts and caves."

"Akatosh must have been in a desperate need for a laugh when he made you dragonborn." I whispered into his defined chest. "You are a bloody idiot."

"I'll bite." The elf propped his head up on his hand. "How is Alva a vampire?"

"What do you suppose happened to Hroggar?" I implied. When I received no answer, I inferred my own conclusion. "You killed him didn't you!" I shoved the elf through hoarse voice as I attempted to keep my voice down.

"Shh!" The elf pressed his finger to my lips. After a little while he spoke up. "Hroggar got stuck in the swamp and was picked apart by mudcrabs. Quite tragic."

I shook my head. "Ever wondered why you never saw her in the day?"

"Because we have the most fun at night." the elf winked at me. "You know you are not in a good position, Leles. Here we are sharing a bed in our small clothes while you try to persuade me that I should leave my lover. Are you sure there isn't something you want to tell me?" He smiled at me with twinkling eyes.

"Forget it, you're revolting." I turned away from him and tugged the blankets over me.

"Hey! Those are mine too."

"You're dead." I snipped. "You don't need them."

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night Lydia managed to make it outside in time for the wine in her system to fulfill it's destiny. Horax was well on his way into sleeping untill the sun rose and fell, like usual. I threw on my fur leggings and over sized shirt before making my way to the tavern bar. I made a mental note that Luburk, the unofficial worst bard in all of Tamriel, was not singing in his corner. Given that I spending the night next to a man as cold as stone, I decided to give up on getting a good sleep and decided to just get up early before the sun had risen instead.

"Hello there." I beamed at Lydia. Her dark circles hung heavily under her eyes. She mumbled and took another sip of the tea in front of her.

"None of that happened." The Nord groaned and continued working on the single braid she let dangle in her hair.

The tavern keeper reached across the bar and placed a sweet roll in front of me. The lack of icing made me frown but I nibbled on it none the less.

"Listen, I have an idea that will cheer you up." I crammed a larger piece of sweet roll in my mouth and downed it with milk. "I hear Morthal has a bit of a vampire problem."

"What, you want to go play detective?" Lydia grabbed a piece of my sweet roll, the iced portion. "I don't think we should. Horax is asleep."

"It has to do with Horax's safety." Lydia raised her eyebrows at me. I leaned in closer. "It's about Alva."

The Nord's eyes widened immensely. _Vampire?_ she mouthed before shoving the last bit of sweet roll past her lips.

I nodded my head. Lydia continued chewing as she gazed ahead. If I planned this out correctly, Lydia was about to get a taste of personal satisfaction that was sweeter than the icing on my Sweet Roll.

* * *

**A/N: **

Heheh who can catch the Harry Potter quote. (Though not exact)

Woo! I'm really liking how this is coming along. More to come soon of course! Again, I appreciate every last one of you who read my story.

Much love goes out to you.


	23. Where There is Love, There is Blood

**Chapter 23: Where There is love, There is Blood**

The wooden plank beneath our feet kept us off the gooey Morthal swamp but mud from bursting bubbles still managed to splash onto my leg. Lydia dressed quickly and pulled me out the door before I had time to ask the time of day. When we stood on solid ground, she let out a long breath and turned to me, smile burned into her mouth.

"So," she huffed. "Where do we start."

Quite honestly, I had no intention of spending my time searching for the spirit of a dead little girl. The sky was still dark so perhaps Laelette the Vampire might even be up and moving. But then that meant that Alva might be up and moving as well.

"Alva has a journal in her basement." I announced.

"You want to break into her home? What if she's there?" Lydia was taken aback.

"We don't have another choice."

"How do you know?"

I glared at Lydia.

"Got it."

We walked along the swamp until we reached the edge of Alva's house.

"Wait here."

I returned in several minutes to find Lydia sitting on the steps of the house, eagerly bouncing her knees up and down.

"I've set up a little something to distract him." I brushed a small strand of hay off my shoulders and smiled.

"'A little something'? Distract who?"

"I set a small stack of hay on fire at the lumber mill."

"Are you insane?" Lydia stood to her feet and darted her view to the small stream of gray smoke coming from the mill.

"Apparently I'm supposed to be. But we don't have time to waste!" Lydia scowled at me in internal conflict. I ran to the door of the house and knocked loudly.

"Hroggar! Hroggar!"

"Leles!, Hroggar is dead!"

I opened my eyes wide and slapped my cheek. I completely forgot that Horax killed him. Not everything is like it was in the game.

To my surprise an dark haired man actually opened the door. He was measly and sickly looking. Red and purple splotches decorated his face. He squinted his reddened eyes at me in confusion. "Why are you here?"

"The mill is on fire! They need your help!"

"I can't go. I have to stay in the house."

I pulled on his hand and brought him out of the house "It's the mill! The mill, you work there!" I was jumping up and down, more because I was actually panicking now than for effect.

Lydia came to my rescue and approached the man from behind. She raised the butt of her sword and knocked him over the head. Whoever-he-was crumpled to the ground unconscious.

"You go get the journal." She hurried down the steps. "I'll, uh, distract the guards and keep watch. Listen for a sign."

A 96 pound girl dragging a 200 pound man did not make for an easy task. Heaving him on to the bed was not a possibility so I dragged him to the floor by the table and placed a few empty mead bottles around him. I could care less if Alva found that convincing. As soon as the Nord was set, I searched his pocket for a key and then raced to the basement. My heart thumped in my chest as I threw the door open. At least if she was in here I could run right back upstairs. To my luck, she wasn't in her coffin. My eyes found the black leather book on the nearby table, horrifyingly drenched in blood. Without taking any extra time, I shut the doors of the house and fled into the dawn outside.

"Go, go, go." The two of us rushed to the mill to smother the small burning mound. Bits of black debris drifted skyward.

A few guards rushed to the scene to find us jumping around and skipping as we stomped our boots into the glowing embers.

"What do you to think you're doing?" Guards and their questions, even more annoying in person.

"Just roasting Marshmallows." I said in between hops before finally settling into a still position and wiping my flailing hair out of my face.

"Marshmallows?" the guards looked to one another. Lydia slapped her palm to her forehead.

"Look, No harm No foul." she glared at the guards.

One guard lifted a finger as if to speak but let it go limp and shook his head. "Crazy girls." he mumbled before they turned back to their post.

* * *

Lydia and I slumped against the wall of the large stone saw mill. We took in a few deep breaths before turning to each other and releasing a few desperate laughs. A few tears fell down my cheek from laughing so hard at the fact that I just crawled through a vampire's home. Alva would probably smell my presence by the time she returned but by then it would be daylight, and she would be trapped.

Lydia traced the spine of the journal with her finger. She gave me a long pensive stare before finally turning the hard cover open. Her eyes flickered over the delicate ink words. She turned over a few pages before giving me another quick glance.

"This is... this is it." She returned to the black book in her hands and smiled. "Do we smell like marshmallows?"

I rested my head against the stone. "No, Lydia we smell like triumph."

* * *

Horax lay curled up in the nest of the blankets and sheets on his bed. Lydia whipped the top blanket off his body, revealing the elf's golden skin and pale blue loin cloth beneath it.

"Watch it, housecarl." He hissed tugging the blanket back up. I pulled on the sheet beneath him, sending him tumbling out of his bed with a loud thud.

"Take a look." Lydia squatted down to meet Horax's eyes. She placed the leather book on his lap. He lifted it under his nose.

"Is this blood?"

"Just read it."

Horax sat still and poured over the pages. Every once in a while he would squint his eyes and then open them wide again. Finally, he reached the last page.

_There is a stranger in town. He's tall, powerful, reeks of magic. I hear him always asking questions and looking for work. I'll have to be careful._

_It turns out the new elf, Horax as they call him, is nothing more than a big fool. He was even easier to seduce than the oaf Hroggar considering that the only thing I had to deal with what was getting him away from that hounding housecarl._

Horax looked up to meet Lydia's eyes. She reached over with a slender hand and pushed his bald head back down to the journal.

_Horax is proving to be extremely resourceful. I have him eating from my hand. He even got rid of Hroggar for me, no questions asked. It would be a shame to lose him if Movarth ever wants him out of the picture. I am going to turn him so he will be eternally bound to me._

The book was slammed closed and hurled into the opposite wall.

"Lydia grab your shield. We're going hunting."

* * *

Horax was becoming extremely agitated by Lydia's silence. She usually talked very little except for the snippets of sarcasm at his many "I told you so" situations, but despite how incredibly "I told you so this" this moment was, Lydia simply followed behind. The only noise she made was the quite exhale of her nose.

"Looks like you were right all along." Horax smiled as they approached the entrance to Morvaths lair. Skeletons dangled from the mouth of the cave while bones and dried blood littered the floor. Lydia shrugged and made her way into the cave. Horax followed suit, pulling the hood of his cloak off his head.

The beginning stretch of cave was typical of most bandit hideouts they've encountered: A few scrappy fighters with weak weapons and armor, usually drinking their time away and mumbling to themselves. As they progressed further, Lydia began to feel the chills and not the same chills she got from standing outside to long. She was a Nord. A little cold brought her no troubles. These chills made her nauseous.

Horax whispered so low she could barely here him. "Take the higher grounds and aim for the leader." Lydia nodded and continued up the rising slope of ground as Horax crept along the walls. She watched as his tall thin figure eventually melted into the walls as he disappeared into the shadows. He was an absolute master of sneak. Sometimes she thought he used an invisibility spell. Who knows, maybe he did.

Lydia pulled her bow off her back and retrieved a glass arrow from her quiver. She crouched against the brown wall and awaited a signal from Horax. A muffled cry. The sliding of a dagger from flesh. The Nord tucked her hair behind her ear and drew her bow, scanning the dimly lit room for the Master Vampire. Lydia caught sight of a man dressed in hide armor crumpling to the floor. A robed man turned to his side and stood up from his chair. He brought his hands up to his chest, glowing with destruction magic. Lydia chose her target and let the arrow fly, striking the man in his collar. For a moment he stumbled back into his chair but swiftly returned and gazed in Lydia's direction. She sent another arrow flying but it hit stuck itself into the chairs backrest. _Balls._

In the middle of drawing another arrow, Lydia was pulled backward by two rough hands. Her assaulter was now straddling her body, raising a war axe over her head. Lydia pressed her bow up to meet the rush of the axe. The woman atop her seemed to be Imperial. Her eyes were blank and her dark skin glowed blue, a resurrected vampire thrall. Lydia was really hating vampire's right now.

The imperial woman was skinny, much lighter than her. She tossed the assaulter onto her side and quickly scrambled to her feet and pressed down on her wrist. She heard Horax and Movarth scraping steel and tossing the contents of the table about. The wriggling woman under her reached into her boot to retrieve a dagger. Lydia lifted the bow in her hand and plunged the sharpened tip into the Imperials heart. The wrist under her foot, as well as the body it was attached to, turned to ash._  
_

Lydia peered over the edge of the small plateau, ready to send another arrow flying. She found Horax leaning over a crippled and bloody Movarth. Movarth was pinned to the table, literally. Daggers were plunged into his wrists and up his arms, keeping him from moving off the table. Horax stood on his feet, towering over him. Lydia watched as the Master Vampire tried to kick up. It swiftly prompted Horax to drive his foot through with his blade. Lydia drew an arrow and held her breath.

"Well, well." The elf smiled at the vampire on the table, Irises leaping like flame and teeth bared like a saber cat. He turned his blade of woe over in his hand. "Thought you could make a fool out of me? Alva must love those pretty lips of yours." Horax dragged the blade across the mans face. The man whipped his head side to side as Horax pressed the tip of his blade into the indent of his mouth. A splash of blood on the table caused Horax to shoot his gaze to Lydia. She had released her arrow and now Movarth lay dead on the table.

"Damn it, Lydia! I wasn't done!" He slammed his hands on the table next to the Movarth, whose body was slowly shriveling up.

Lydia didn't hesitate to take her leave. She quickly marched down the slope and proceeded toward the exit of the cavern.

"Hold it! What's going on?" Horax darted after her, forgetting about the loot in the vampire's lair. "Lydia wait!" But of course, the woman did not. She had gotten almost to the mouth of the cave when Horax yelled once more.

"I order you Lydia!"

She stopped in her place without bothering to turn around. Instead she stared straight ahead into the birth of the day's sun. She trembled in her spot, black locks shaking like leaves in the wind.

"What... What... I" The golden elf slowed his pace as he approached his housecarl. "Lydia, I don't understand."

She snapped around and brought herself closer to him. "Of course you don't, Horax. You don't understand anything if it isn't spelled out for you."

"Lyyyydiiiiaa." Horax cocked his head and grabbed her hands. She pulled them away and curled her lip in disgust. She backed away from him.

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm your housecarl. We're supposed to trust each other with our lives. I thought I... I thought I was..." unconsciously Lydia had backed herself into a wall near the creeping sunlight at the cave's opening.

"When I say 'I am your sword and your shield' I mean it. It isn't some sleazy line we are taught to repeat. I would die for you." The Nord stared into the infernal eyes of her Thane. _Thane_ she repeated to herself. That's all he was. And all she would ever be was his housecarl. _ The Hounding Housecarl._

The elf didn't respond. Instead he pulled himself against her on the wall and pressed his lips to hers, fingers massaging themselves into her curls. Lydia looked in front of her, the elf had closed his eyes. Thick lashes were tickling the skin on the top of her cheekbones while his tongue parted her lips. He reeked of the recent killings but his taste was... exotic. She had kissed plenty of humans, but an elf? She wondered to herself. Was it magic that she was tasting? Horax moved his knee in between hers and gently turned her head to its side as he slid his mouth over her pale neck.

Lydia gasped. The touching, grazing, the feel of his lips all of it reminded her of some rather vivid dreams she had in her bed at breezehome. He was an even better kisser than she imagined. She could only imagine how wild of a lover he would make. Horax slid his hand down her back and lifted his head back to meet her lips. As her tongue scraped against fang, she brought herself to reality. She pulled away swiftly and punched him straight in the mouth.

"Like oblivion, you pig." Lydia grabbed him by the collar of his robes and lowered him mere inches from the sunlight pouring into the cave. "If you ever try this little stunt again, you might wake up to find your 21st digit missing." The woman flushed red and dropped the elf onto his back. "I'm your housecarl, not your whore." Lydia quickly stepped around the elf, out of the cave, and into the embrace of the glowing sunlight.

Horax rolled onto his stomach and watched the sway of her hips as she left.

_Definitely worth it,_ Horax thought, licking the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

* * *

**A/N: Small Poll!**

**I have the next chapter written and desperately want to add a bit of a violent and graphic scene to it (guess who is performing it) but it might change the rating. Nothing to grotesque but how do you feel about the description of someone mutilating a body? Let me know what you guys think!**

Yup, definitely should have been born Whoreax instead. Wee! Hope you're having a fun time with the story. Remember: comments, questions, criticism are all welcome so please review and answer my question!


	24. A Lesson in Love

**A/N:**

This chapter includes a **fair** **bit** of **graphic violence**. You have been warned. If the idea of torture makes you squeamish at all, PLEASE,_ please, _**please** skip to the next chapter. I'll have a summary awaiting you at the top. I don't want to ruin any ones day.

**Chapter 24: A Lesson in Love**

I sat on the floor of my room in Moorside inn, scrubbing the drying mud off of my boots. They were fur boots. It was completely disgusting.

Lydia burst through the door, slamming it against the wall and then back into the door frame behind her. Jonna, the tavern owner, howled something incoherent from her spot behind the bar.

"If Horax comes back, I'm not here." She slipped her boots off and began to strip off her armor. Sighing in defeat, I tossed my soggy boots aside. "No, Leles. I don't want to talk."

Taken aback, I climbed onto the bed opposite Lydia and shifted through the pile of books I collected from the others room. I turned the The Lusty Argonian Maid over in my hands. I cast a glance over at Lydia who was burning holes in the wall in front of her. Perhaps another time. I was a curious cat.

The door knob of our room slowly turned. Lydia threw herself onto the bed and turned away from the doorway. Horax peeked his head through the crack as he pushed the door open.

"Lydia isn't here."

Horax nodded his head and proceeded to push the door open. Lydia sat up and launched a steel boot at the door which closed immediately. Jonna, once again, yelled from outside the door.

"Leles, I need a word!" The elf knocked desperately on the door.

I scurried to the door and peeked it open.

"What?"

"Out here, please."

Horax lead me to a room on the opposite side of the inn. He opened his mouth to speak but I held a hand out first.

"Whatever happened between you and Lydia, happened between you and Lydia. If she wants me to know, she'll tell me."

"It's not about that." He slapped my hand away. "I'm going to kill Alva."

I nodded my head. Horax paused. His orange eyes darted side to side before resting on me.

"Did you want me to be surprised? You're an assassin."

"I want your help."

"What, my help?" he urged me to lower my voice.

"I want it," He emphasized "I don't need it."

"Good" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Then kill her without me."

Horax laughed out loud. "A slaughterfish on dry land wouldn't need your help."

I gasped at him. My hunting skills were not even that bad.

"I want you to destroy this journal. Burn it, drown it, bury it. Just get it out of here." he handed the black book to me.

"Why? Why not give it to the Jarl? They will have nothing against killing a vampire." I accepted the book and tucked it under my arm.

"I was careful that no one found out about us. I don't want them getting ideas about what we were or what I am now."

"They already know you're a heartless beast."

"That," he scratched his bald head. "That's beside the point."

He pushed me toward the door of the small room.

"Be outside at the mill by night fall. And if anyone asks, I'm heading toward Whiterun." with that, I was pushed out the door. I stood still, journal held close to my chest before I experimentally turned the door knob of the room behind me. When I didn't get the expected "bugger off" I turned around and stared into an empty room.

* * *

Drawing his hood over his head, Horax slunk about the town in the cloak of an invisibility spell. As he approached his former lover's house he chuckled. Sometimes invisibility magic made things too easy. He almost felt like he was cheating. Almost.

Glancing in both directions he picked the weak lock of the door with Nocturnal's skeleton key. If the members of the guild knew he had no intention of returning it, there would be a ruckus and Horax wasn't interested in ruckus that included being fully dressed.

A dazed looking Nord sat on the bed to his right as he peeked in through the tiny crack. Within a few minutes, the elf had pinned the Nord on the floor and suffocated him with a pillow. With the nudge of his foot, he double checked that the man was dead.

Horax's long pointed nose grazed the air as he inhaled a few sniffs. Tart green apple and a hint of lavender lingered in the air, which conformed his suspicions of who retrieved Alva's journal. He readied his dagger as he tested the door knob. It was unlocked. Was she waiting for him or was she in to much of a panic to check the simple securities?

Horax readied himself before entry. He stood tall and cracked his neck side to side before straightening his robe. He peeked inside the tiny pocket on the inside of his robes. Alva's present remained safely tucked away. For an extra moment, the elf practiced his smiles. Some with teeth, some without. After finally feeling prepared, he pressed the door open.

Alva sat with her head in her hands at the foot of her coffin, dressed in her usual exposing attire. She looked up and gasped. Her heavy make up was smudged around her eyes. _Was she crying? _Horax wondered. _Could vampires even cry?_ He felt fairly confident that he would never find out for himself.

"My sweet, What do I owe this pleasure?" Alva didn't bother rising to greet him and instead attempted to wipe away some of the mess of makeup on her face. She sat in her own coffin. _How fitting.__  
_

"You sound... startled." He cocked his head to the side and smiled, allowing his sharp fangs to reflect the tiny flickering candle light. "What's wrong Deathbell? Waiting for something else?"

"Of course not, my sweet." The Nord rose to her feet and started toward Horax, lowering her head and swaying her hips. She placed her shaky hands on his shoulders and brought herself to his lips: Trembling, cold, dead lips.

Horax hoisted Alva onto his hips. She wrapped her lifeless arms around his neck and sucked on his lower lip as he carried her over to the small wooden table in the corner. She layed her back down and slowly lifted the skirt of her dress a few inches before pulling away from the kiss. She held onto the elf's neck and bit her lip. A small fang dangled out.

"Oh my, twice in one visit. You're... you're eager aren't you." A thin hand found its way to Horax's thigh. "Why don't we go upstairs where there's a bed?"

"Because there is a dead man lying in it." Horax whispered into her black hair. The woman's smile faltered for a moment before she grazed the Altmer's face with her hand.

"How very thoughtful of you."

"You know, nothing turns me on quite like the rush of death." he chuckled and pressed himself in between the woman's legs. "Except perhaps the smell of fear." The corners of Alva's mouth quivered. Horax pinned her wrists to the table and nipped at her neck. "It's not like you sleep in a bed anyway."

"I, I don't know what you mean." The Nord pulled at her wrists but Horax had them clamped down like a vise. "Horax." she attempted another smile. "What are you playing at, love?"

"I got you a present to match those sweet amber eyes of yours." Alva let the curtain fall. Her face creased as the weights of worry dragged the corner of her mouth down. In a quick leap, Horax was on top of her,. She squealed in pain as he grabbed her wrists in one hand and pressed them onto her stomach. Reaching into his small pocket, Horax retrieved two round object. He held one up to Alva's face.

"This is what your boyfriend looked like a few hours ago." He turned the dirty and hazy eyeball closer into Alva's view. She shrieked at the glowing orange eyeball, it's black pupil staring into hers. She wriggled under Horax's weight. The elf adjusted his position, pressing harder on the Nord's wrists, and placed the eyeball in between her breasts.

"And this," He lifted the second eyeball into view. "is what he looks like now." Deep purple oozed out as Horax slit the pronounced section of eyeball with his sharp nails. He crushed the deflated sphere in his hand and smeared it on Alva's cheek.

"You're going to die elf!" A sudden burst of vampiric adrenaline allowed Alva to raise her torso as she threw Horax off of her.

The elf somersaulted backward before catching himself on his feet. The raging woman leaped onto Horax, knocking him to his back. She screamed and clawed his face like a sabercat before Horax managed to grab a handful of ebony hair and swing her into the stone wall of the basement. Alva pressed her self to her hands and coughed up a glob of blood. Horax, back on his feet, grabbed the woman's throat and crushed her against the wall. She wriggled her legs in the air, hands flying to the elf's massive hands. Sharp nails clawed into his skin but Horax simply threw his head back and laughed. Alva spit a mouthful of blood into his face.

"You of all people should know that a bit of blood doesn't bother me.". Alva flailed her arms, one hand reaching over the Horax's face and squeezed a golden cheek before running her nails into his flesh. "How I'll miss your gentle caress."

The High Elf carried his ex-lover to the table and flipped her onto her stomach. After retrieving a long strip from inside his robes, Horax tied the vampire's wrists together so tightly that the skin swelled over the leather. He lifted the coffin upright and leaned it against the wall. Slipping his robe off his shoulders, Horax revealed his walking armory. Belts of daggers, embalming tools, tiny bottles of salts, and various other sharp pointy instruments wrapped around his chest and hips. He plucked Alva up and with a long stake, nailed her wrists through the backboard of the coffin.

"I really liked you Alva." Horax pecked around the woman's feet, admiring a sharp curved dagger in the dim light while Alva prayed to the divines that she didn't worship. "I might say that to every woman, but I swear to Sithis. You were different." He squeezed the Nords face in his hand, turning it from side to side searching for the right spot for the first incision. Her snowberry pink lipstick smudged against his palm.

The cold blade pressed into Alva's equally cold skin, drawing a thin line of blood under her cheekbone to the corner of her thin lips. Horax pressed harder, and dragged the blade across in a gravely slow motion. Alva was screaming and thrashing, kicking in all directions. She hit Horax several times which only managed to make him chuckle. With every desperate movement, the broken flesh and bone of her wrists twisted around the stake.

Taking a step back, Horax admired his knife work. A pair of stained lips rested in his hand. Blood poured down Alva's mouth. Her body hung limp as she rolled her head around. The Altmer lifter her chin and smiled. "You know what they say, play with with fire and you're bound to get burned."

He tilted her chin back and raised a bottle of sparkling orange and yellow crystals above her clenched teeth. "Aww, Alva don't be shy now. Open up."

More screams escaped her gaping hole of a mouth as the fire salts poured down her throat. Gurgling blood mingled with the cries and pleas that she incomprehensibly slurred.

With a new blade, since Horax was fond of giving everyone a taste of the action, the elf sliced through the layers of corset at the front of Alva's dress. The dangling woman rolled her eyes around in her head. Blood from her first wound trickled down her cheek in a thin curtain, staining her already rouged cheek a new shade of crimson.

Horax sliced through the right strap of the dress. The fabric fell away revealing Alva's small breast. Starting with another delicate incision, Horax carved a deep line from her collar bone to her belly button. The woman grunted, her throat burned by the fire salts. Her blood collected in pools on the cold ground.

When Horax began peeling away at the chunks of flesh on Alva's stomach and chest, he noticed she had stopped making any noise. The only movement she made were the swingings that followed in the rhythm of his tugs.

"Since you don't need this anymore," He whispered to the dead body as he plunged his arm into its chest cavity and searched for the hollow muscle. "I'm going to take it. I've been told I could use one."

* * *

Lydia and I waited in the dark of the night, accompanied by the buzzing of torch bugs and whisper of night birds.

"Ready?" The elf said in a huff, his beam rivaled that of the stars.

Lydia turned to me. Both of us noted that he was not in the same robes he left in. These robes were crisp, clean and colored deep orange with a lighter shade for the collar. The robes cut off a fair bit higher than usual, most likely because they were not his. His once black boots were now stained a deep scarlet.

"I've had enough of Morthal." Lydia turned to the road.

I turned to Horax and shrugged my shoulders. "Things went well?"

"Well, If you must know," the elf beckoned me to follow as he pursued Lydia's trail. "I'm feeling quite enlightened." The man hummed to himself, occasionally alternating between a quick carol, a whistle, and a sip of mead. "I think I finally understand what Cicero was talking about!"

I slowed my pace and bit my tongue, wanting to know no more. The elf didn't seem to mind as he turned and smiled, skipping after Lydia. Champion of Sanguine indeed.

* * *

**A/N:**

Well, he is listener of the dark brotherhood, after all. I feel bad including that because I'm definitely not used to that kind of writing (I asked my mom what she thought and she said it was no good and that I should write about butterflies instead.)

I felt like it added to the story and character depth of Horax, given that most we have seen of him makes him look like an incompetent screwball. Let me know what you think! Like it? Hate it? Wish you could pluck out your eyes after reading? Thanks for even reading in the first place!


	25. Whiterun at Last

**A/N:**

Woot 25 chapter! For those of you that missed the last chapter- Lydia came back to the Inn extremely pissed. Horax asked Leles to hide the journal because he wanted to keep his affair with Alva a secret. Horax goes off to Alva's house, cue to blood and gore, and now she is dead as a door nail. Finally, Lydia and Leles meet up with Horax at night and continue on to whiterun.

**Chapter 25: Whiterun at Last**

All 3 of us could agree that after a good day of travel, the climb between the stables and the gates of Whiterun was mountainous. Once again, we dragged our dirty, smelly bodies up the sloping road.

"I'm dying! I'm burning!" Horax slammed into the door behind him as he slid down to the stone tile floor.

"You should see what Meeko did to your alchemy storage." Lydia called in a monotone from the steps as she hiked to her room.

"You, no going outside. I'm, I'm taking a nap."

When I turned to look at the elf, he was already sprawled out on the floor, asleep. Or resting? Whatever it was the vampires do. I removed the crusted boots on his feet and placed our staves upstairs. Slowly, I creeped across the the floor to Lydia's door, and pressed an ear to the lock.

"Go away, Leles."

Damn. Clearly, my sneak skill was in need of improvement.

"You sure you don't want to get some rest?"

"I'm human. I sleep at night."

Horax had a remarkable collection of books. He had filled up the bookshelves in the sitting area and was working on a new library in his alchemy room. Several bugs crawled around the floor of the tiny room while eyeballs and eggs rolled around the floor. Meeko sat guilty in the doorway, watching as I scooped handfuls of various salts into bowls. I traced the edges of the ornate book spines, searching for something I could make use of. Several spell tomes stood out, intricate etchings on their cover.

_Every being, Man, Mer, and beast races alike, is connected to the eternal river of Magicka that flows from Atherius itself. Only the strong few, however, are able to harness and manipulate the raw energy that is Magic. The simplest of magic can be exemplified in the use of spells. Each spell is categorized into one of 6 schools: Alteration, Conjuration, Destruction, Illusion, Mysticism, and Restoration. __The school of destruction magic is divided into three different categories: Frost, Fire, and Shock. Spells falling under the school of destruction are focused on causing damage to a target, living or non-living._

So far, I was following.

_Flame is by far the simplest of destruction spells to perform. All living beings have the fire of life within them, breathed into them at birth by the Divine Arkay. One must simply delve into their flow of magicka and call upon the element of flame, connecting to the embers..._

I shut the book and shoved it back into it's slot on the shelf. Apparently I was indeed connected to this world but the idea of pulling fire out of my veins was so far beyond me not even a "Casting Fire for Dummies" book was bound to save me. If I had any hope in learning a spell, what I needed was training. I shuffled off to Horax's bedroom, Meeko following in trail. Sighing into the pillow, I turned my gaze to the outline of the dragonstone in the knapsack on the drawers. Tonight was going to be quite the night indeed.

* * *

I awoke to the buckling of boots and the scraping of metal. The smell of roasting meat and spices drifted through the cracks in the floor boards. Heading down the steps, I found Lydia dressed in her steel armor, picking at loaf of Horker. She turned the spit and offered me a plate.

"Do you have enough... energy for tonight?" I asked, slicing a slab of dark meat and shoveling it into my mouth.

"Yes. I already ate." Horax slipped his last boot on. He was no longer wearing his robes. Instead, he was dressed in black leather armor from neck to toe. It must have been specially made for him because it was nothing I had seen before. Small pockets and belts appeared in numerous places, the thigh, the chest, the upperarm, probably for stowing bottles of poison and small daggers. I squinted my eyes and looked closer. A black hand print, even darker than the already nightly shade of his armor, adorned his chest. That certainly layed my mind to rest.

"Why aren't you dressed?" The elf snapped the last buckle of his black boots.

"I.. You want me to go with you?"

He nodded his head. "You've 'fought' a dragon or two in your time. Besides, you were at Helgen. at least you know how to run from them. Go on upstairs. I layed something out for you."

I took my plate of Horker with me up stairs. The knapsack on the dresser was now replaced by red and black armor. I picked it up and turned it over. Dark Brotherhood. The blood of dozens must have been scrubbed off of the leather. I shivered. I bet someone died in this.

"You know, it actually fits you well." Horax smiled as I opened the door into the night.

"It looks like a cat suit." I picked at the leather at my rear. Unfortunately, it was quite the snug fit. "May I ask who it belonged to?"

"Nobody actually. It was to large for our smallest member."

* * *

My ears were ringing, throat burning, heart pumping out of my chest. I dropped to my stomach as a blaze of fire spouted through the thin fortress walls. Strands of fly away hair from my ponytail caught on fire. I swiped at my head, making sure no flames remained. Horax and Lydia were shouting back and forth from the top of the Western Watch Tower. I crawled up a few steps before realizing the only thing I could possible succeed in was getting myself burnt to a crisp.

Horax was firing away with his ebony bow, lodging poisoned arrows into the thick scaly skin of the beast.

"I need to get down there." He placed his bow on his back and whipped around to the spiral staircase. Lydia grabbed his shoulder.

"There's no need we can take it down from up here."

"I feel like I need to be down there." He pulled his shoulder from her grip and hurried down the steps. "Just stay up here."

Horax passed me on the stairs. He was moving swiftly. I sprang to my feet and followed him till we reached the floor of the tower.

"Should I come?" I huffed through rapid breathing.

Horax didn't bother to turn around. "Stay here and try not to shoot the guards." He exited the tower into a cloud of black smoke.

I took my position at a thin window and drew my bow, in search for a dragon. I cursed loudly as my vision was obscured by a thick layer of ash and smoke.

Perhaps the crazy in me decided it was tired of hiding because before the thoughts got to my brain, my legs were racing out the door. In the distance, Horax was casting sheets of ice onto the Fire dragons joints. The guards scrambled around it and slashed their swords against it's body, which only seemed to anger it. I darted behind large blocks of stone, leaping and jumping away from the bursts of fire tracking me down. Once again the dragon's attention was focused on the attacking guards. I took my chance and ran behind Horax.

"Get it's eye!" I screamed. The elf jumped, startled by my appearance but his gaze never broke from the winged creature in front of him.

It's jaws snapped at a nearby guard, grabbing them by the head and swinging it carelessly against the tower. Irileth was screaming orders, but no one was able to make them out. She stabbed her sword into the leg of the beast. The sword was stuck and Irileth desperately tried to pull it out before the dragon's tail whipped her off her feet.

"What?" Horax backed away and raised his head as the dragon took to the smoke filled night air. A wave of arrows swiftly brought it back to it's feet, crushing several guards under it's claws. I pushed Horax forward as the dragon turned to face the remaining guards.

"It's head!" I drew an arrow and coughed from my clouded lungs. My hands were shaking violently. the first arrow landed somewhere in the deep ridges of the grey beasts eye socket. My second arrow hit somewhere along its jaw, mouth was lined with fresh blood.

Horax drew his ebony blade and ran forward. He reached up to grab a thick black horn and swung himself onto Mirmulnir's head. The Dragon was screeching and shaking violently, but Horax held on. With an adrenaline filled shout, the Altmer rushed to his feet and grabbed hold of the dragon's nostril. Mirmulnir tossed him up and down as he jolted his head in rage. Raising his ebony sword, Horax brought the blade into the dragon's yellow eye. Blood spilled down his grey jaw.

Mirmulnir shouted a death cry into the violent air of the Whiterun sky. "Dovahkiin! No!"

Horax plunged his sword into the last eye of the dragon before leaping off to the ground. The now lifeless body of Mirmulnir slowly began to burn away, revealing the bones beneath its thick scaled. Lydia had made her way down from the tower and ran along side Irileth. I stood next to Horax whose eyes followed the rising ash skyward to the moon.

A swirl of orange light encircled Horax as he stood in his spot. His face expressed panic as he turned to me. I watched in awe, jaw dangling open. The bright beams of orange trickled in the air as he attempted to take a step.

A whiterun guard shouted from his spot near the dragon bones. "I can't believe it. You're... Dragonborn! In the oldest tales, back when there were still dragons in skyrim, the dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, Isn't it. Absorbed the dragon's power."

Horax turned to me for confirmation. I nodded, mouth still open.

"I believe you're right." he wiped away a stream of blood from his cheek.

"There's only one way to find out. Try a shout."

"Shout? I don't know a..."

"Horax," he was already staring at me. "What did you find in Bleak falls barrow?"

"Nothing, you took what we came looking for."

I could hear Irileth and the Whiterun guards arguing over the concept of a Dragonborn. Lydia was peeking through the ribs of the dragon's ribcage. A pile of gold lay nestled underneath.

"Think, there was a wall. What did it say?"

"It wasn't any Tamrielic language I've seen." He shrugged his shoulders

"Just think! You're Dragonborn. You know what it means."

Horax paused and scrunched his face. I wobbled next to the guard in front of him and held my breath. The vampire Dragonborn made himself inhale before closing his eyes and letting out a roar.

The guard next to me stumbled back a bit and then clapped his hands, face glowing in awe. I, however, picked myself up from 3 meters away, face full of dirt.


	26. Wrong Turn Right

**Chapter 26: Wrong Turn Right**

Wiping down the mounted dragon skull hanging over the doorway, Horax turned to me with a glowing smile. The elf took a few minutes everyday of the past week to do a bit of polishing. Seeing how he was in a good mood, I decided to take the opportunity to ask the Dragonborn a question.

"Can you tech me about magic?" I called from the far table.

"Magic?" he repeated, stepping down from his wooden chair. "What for? You're fair with a bow."

I set the mortar and pestle down on the table and turned to straddle the bench. "Maybe just a healing spell? Or flame in case I don't have any weapons."

Horax dragged the wooden chair in front of the firepit. "You always have weapons." He smiled, lightly punching my shoulder.

"Please? It's only fair."

"Fair?" the elf recoiled in confusion.

"For saving your life, for leading you down the right paths."

"Leles, how did you come to this hypothesis."

"Alva? Our Daedric party. None of it would have happened without me." I crossed my arms over my chest

"Look, I need to make rounds to Dawnstar and then Windhelm. Maybe when I get back."

"Windhelm?" the thought of Ralof immediately clouded my mind. I wondered if he'd be there. Had he let his beard grow out? Had he finally shaved the stuble? "Take me with you."

"You want to go to Dawnstar?" He looked genuinely surprised. "Don't you know what is over there?"

"Yes, I do. It's Windhelm I want to go to." I grabbed a handful of orange bugs and dropped them in my mortar. "I have a friend who might be there."

"A friend!" He snorted, slapping his hands down onto the table. "You have a friend?"

Turning back to face the table, I pushed my pestle into the mortar. Green dartwing innards squished along the sides.

* * *

The straps of my pack weighed down on my shoulder's again. At least the dragonstone was now in the hands of Farengar and not being lugged around on my back. I rushed down the path to the stables after Horax, fur shawl flapping in the wind behind me.

"Can't we take the carriage?"

Horax brought Shadowmere out of her stall waving a carrot in her face. "This will be much faster."

The road stretched on before us like an eternal shore, washing closer and then receding once you think you can touch it.

"Since when do you take roads. And why are you going so slow?"

"Shh." He replied back in whisper. "I'm waiting."

I was about to open my mouth when three bandits popped out of the bushes in front of us.

"Never should have come here!"

Without another second wasted, Horax slid from his horse, whipped around, and sliced the bandit through the collar creating a shower of blood that poured to the ground. Shadowmere raised her front legs and pounded into the charging Redguard, sending me toppling backwards to the ground.

* * *

Drums beat their sporadic rhythms into my head as I flicked my eyes open. Continuous stone wall surrounded me while hard soil lay beneath me. Horax sat on the opposite side of a small fire, a bottle in one hand, a severed limb in the other.

"That is just revolting." I spewed, pushing myself up with my hands.

Horax didn't look up as he trickled droplets of blood into the mouth of the blue bottle. Crimson ran down it's glass sides and formed to the cylindrical base.

"Would you rather I drank your blood instead?"

I gave into the pounding chorus in my head and laid back down to rest till morning appeared.

The sun was dark and high in the sky by the time my stomach woke me with a growling grumble. There was no way around it; when you traveled with a vampire you're sleeping schedule went out the window.

Figuring I had already slept to my hearts content, I got up and tested my sore head. Every time I bent over, the throbbing returned. The sun light shone through the opening of whatever cave we rested in. I didn't see how hard it would have been to find an inn.

Shadow mere gladly accepted the apple I brought for her. Sitting on the chilly rock next to her, I munched on my own apple and turned over a few thoughts in my head. How long had I been in Skyrim? I had arrived in mid August, Last Seed apparently. I spent a month or so in Riverwood, several days traveling until Horax brought me to Whiterun, another month in Markarth, and a few weeks since Sheogortah and Sanguine dumped us in Solitude. What was that: two and a half months, three.? I had lost count and decided to just ask Horax when he woke up.

The next few hours were painfully monotonous. Playing Skyrim, one might get the feeling that the wilderness was far to beautiful to ever become dull but here I was, watching the unforgiving snow fall upon the pine trees while I shivered underneath the lip of the cave. I desperately wanted to go outside, just for a few moments, maybe make some snowmen, but the idea that a snow beast might be lurking about quickly snapped me into reality.

_The pale, _I repeated in my mind. Quite the explicit description.

Horax awakened groggy as always. Without wasting time, he slipped me onto the saddle and hurried off into the twin moonlight.

The snow fall around us only seemed to get heavier and crunch under Shadowmere's foot brought us no relief. If only vampires could see through the snow.

"We made a wrong turn. I know it."

"We'll make it!"

I could barely hear Horax through the bluster of winds although he was mere inches away.

"Make it where!" I shouted, but the only response I received was the chill of snow. I held on tighter to the the elf's waist, pressing my fur armor against his back.

In the distance a faint orange light came into view. If shadowmere was turned in any other direction, we would have missed it. Horax wrapped his body around mine as he helped me down. I turned into his chest.

"We could have hired a carriage."

"Shh. Let's see where we are."

The elf approached the lit house. Daggers were at the ready strapped to the belt of his black armor underneath his cloak. After a few knocks, the door opened.

"What do you want? It's two in the morning." Another Altmer opened the door rubbing his eyes. His clothes were patched and his blonde hair was in a tangled mess.

"What city are we closest to?" Horax stared into the man with blank expression

"Oh, hello Horax."

"Yes, what city are we closest to?"

The man extended his arms to his side and stretched. "It's Ulundil. You're at the Windhelm stables."

"Enjoy the rest of your night." Horax nodded and slammed the door shut in the stable owners face.

"Well, explains that doesn't it. I told you we'd make it."

I pulled my shawl over my head as Horax took my arm and led me across the bridge to the gates of Windhelm.

"Weren't we supposed to head to Dawnstar first?"

"Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

* * *

I was starting to becoming increasingly annoyed at how far these cities built their stables from the main gate. By the time we threw open the doors of candlehearth, I felt as though I had been walking for miles.

I placed my hands on my knees and heaved. The walk through the blistering cold of the raging blizzard was killing my lungs. A drunk Nord pushed me into the door frame as he stumbled out the door, his shabby hat falling into a clump of snow. I shut the door behind him before I could make out any of his swearing.

Horax had finished paying for a room and was now popping open a bottle of mead. He took a seat next to an elderly woman. Braids of white hair were tied together at the back of her head.

"Have they found anything new?" he slid the bottle down to the woman.

"Nothing at all." She accepted the bottle and slid it back and forth in her hands.

"So, they still think it's..."

The woman turned her head to to face him. "I'm afraid so."

"Hey," I spoke quietly, not wanting to interrupt. "You want to go upstairs? There's still time to kill."

Horax shook his head. His face looked different, not the usual chipper glow. Instead , it looked worried. That's when I looked around. Every one that once stood at the bar of the Inn had fled upon our arrival.

"I'm going to stay here. Don't be up too much longer."

What could be here in Windhelm that kept Horax so on edge? It was true that I had never asked him where his allegiances lied, but guessing from the ill memories of his Thalmor father, I assumed he wasn't a friend of the Empire. Then again, he was Altmer and Stormcloaks didn't much care for Altmer.

Several finely dressed men sat at a table, chatting away, eyebrows furrowed in the heat of conversation. A Dunmer beat a small drum in her arms in the far corner of the room. Another young woman watched her with hazy eyes, empty bottle of mead dangling in her finger tips. I fidgeted with my ponytail and mindlessly drifted to an empty seat. The tavern was warm, too warm for my fur armor. I shimmied my shoulders and brought the thickest layer over my head. The loose miners shirt tempted to drift below my bustline before I pulled it back and worked on retying the laces in front.

"Leles?"

"Hmm?" The voice startled me as I twirled around in my seat. I gasped at the sapphire blue eyes staring back at me.

"I wondered if I'd see you again, cub."


	27. Empty

**A/N:**

Bah, longest chapter so far!

**Chapter 27: Empty**

Completely ignoring Horax's advice, I sat with Ralof until the sun cracked through the storm clouds that plagued Windhelm's skies. My eyes were lost in the movements of his lips and broad jaw, still as stubbly as the day we met. He was still dressed in the blue of his Stormcloak uniform, although this one lacked the scorch marks her had earned at Helgen.

Ralof threw himself back against the cushioned chair and placed his hands behind his head. The passion he held for his fellow Stormcloaks and their battles was astounding as he never seemed to run out of stories to tell me. Although I had lost interest hours ago, I sat with my head resting in my hands as I listened to the vehemence in his voice.

"And so I'm back in Windhelm to report to Jarl Ulfric. Well not me personally. My squadron leader." Ralof smiled and offered me half of his bread loaf. "But listen to me ramble. You have barely said anything."

"I don't want you to stop talking. It's been too long since I've heard word from you." I pulled my knees into my chest and accepted the loaf. It was far from warm but the outside still crunched when I tore a smaller chunk off.

"Even more of a reason why you should say something. What have you been doing since you left Riverwood?"

"Oh, I dabbled in the field of horse care in Markarth. Some hunting in Morthal. Busy work in between." My eyes drifted to the bottom of my tankard of water. Ralof kept his eyes on me, toothy grin on his face.

"Hunting. Glad to hear you're getting better with a bow."

I began to shake my head before pathetically giving into a nod. "Yeah." I downed the rest of my water, hoping to deter him from anymore questions regarding my non-existent skill with weapons.

"And what brings you in to Windhelm?"

I gasped. "I have no idea why I'm in Windhelm." Come to think of it, Horax didn't give me any reason at all. I shoved a piece of soft bread into my mouth and shrugged my shoulders.

Ralof chuckled and took my empty hand in his. His thick fingers played with mine, much like he used to do back in Riverwood.

"I'm glad you're here."

My grip on his hand tightened as he placed a small peck on my cheek.

"I'm glad too."

* * *

The smell of beef stew drifted in from the kitchen down the hall. Horax was slumbering away in bed when I walked into our room. I guess he really didn't care if I stayed out too late. All the candles in the room had been blown out, leaving it relatively dark except for the light seeping in from the cracks in the floor above. Sleeping didn't sound very appealing to me right now, but I rolled the elf over and lay on my back staring at the wooden planks of the ceiling.

My stomach was knitting fuzzy sweaters as the memories of Ralof and I reappeared in my head: The time he convinced me to swat a beehive out of a tree and sent both of us charging into the river, when he blamed me for slipping ice down Sven's shirt while he attempted to serenade Camila, our kiss goodbye.

Helgen memories came flooding back as well, souring my cheery smile. My first look into Skyrim was one of blood, fire and death. I slapped my cheeks and groaned. I wish those memories could have been buried under Helgen's ash.

"Who is he?" Horax mumbled, face down in his pillow and arms dangling over the edge of the bed.

"Umm.."

"I can smell the Nord on you."

"Are you trying to imply something?" I turned my head to the side he lay on.

"No," The elf lifted his face from the pillow. "Should I?"

"No." I snapped back. "I was visiting with a friend."

"Oh right. Your _friend." _The elf rolled onto his side to face me. "And the visit was..."

"Fine. it was fine." The two of us lay in silence for the few passing minutes. The exhale through my nose whistled a little. I tried to listen for any noise coming from Horax but the dead don't make to much noise after all. "We met in the death cart to Helgen and he sheltered me afterward. Maybe, you can meet him." Maybe. I wasn't so sure I wanted the two to meet.

"Helgen, huh. So he was either a failed escaping convict or a Stormcloak. What lovely taste you have indeed." he grinned

"Well look at me now. I'm lying in bed with an assassin, a vampire no less."

The elf beamed at me through yellow pupils.

"So, call me crazy for all I care."

* * *

Horax awoke me with a good hard shake, sending my head jostling side to side.

"I'm going out for the evening, want to come?"

I lifted my head from the bed to give Horax a sharp stare. "No thank you. I was perfectly fine being asleep."

"You're up now. What about going to see that friend of yours?"

The thought of seeing Ralof did make me feel like getting out of bed. I frowned when I realized I didn't know where he would be at this hour of the evening.

"Well get up! There's no use in wasting a perfectly fine night." Horax tugged on my arm.

I sighed and rubbed my sleep plagued eyes. "My nights are supposed to be for sleeping." Regardless, I wrapped my fur shawl around my shoulders and followed Horax to the second level of the inn.

Ignoring many hateful stares, the two of us made our way into the chill of the city. Horax walked swiftly ahead of me and took a sharp turn to his left in between two large walls.

"Hey," I sprinted to catch up with him. "Where are you going?"

"To the hall of the dead. There is something I need to check up on."

"No way, I'm not going in."

Horax shrugged his shoulders and continued down the icy steps. "Just don't stay outside. There's a bit of... nasty stuff going on."

Horax stared at my puzzled face and waited for my to say something. I nodded my head and turned back toward Candlehearth hall. Loud chatter and heavy footsteps caught my attention. A group of several Stormcloaks marched down the wide steps from the palace heading toward the tavern. I stood on my tip toes and searched for a peek of blonde hair.

A pair of hands came down on my shoulders, causing me to jump and release a small yelp. The soldiers approached me shaking their heads and laughing.

"Started with out us, Ralof?" The soldier nodded his head at me and then lifted his gaze to the Nord behind me.

"No, I was out looking for this one." The Blonde Nord patted my shoulders and grinned.

One of the female soldiers stared down at me in distaste.

"Thought you might be interested in the new dancer they have tonight. A Redguard lass, full of figure, not another scrawny elf." The woman looked my string bean physique up and down before smiling and turning her gaze to Ralof. The man simply smiled as the group of Stormcloaks carried on into the Tavern. Ralof took my hand and lead me toward the direction of the palace.

"Aren't we going to the inn?" I asked, hurrying to his side.

"The tavern, I've been in there every night since we got back." We approached the top of the steps. "I don't even mind drinking in the barracks."

"May I ask why we are heading toward the palace?" The great metal doors stood before me, one on each side of a tall pillar of stone.

"Jarl Ulfric will be glad to see you. He hasn't forgotten about our meeting in Helgen." The mention of the Jarl brought a smile to his lips. I bet his blood was Stormcloak blue.

Floor, ceiling, walls. The entire palace was built from light colored grey stone, some almost white. Goat horn chandeliers and torch stones illuminated the interior. Blue and white banners cascaded from the ceiling, while a blue carpet ran across the floor. Several guards nodded to Ralof as he entered. Behind the long dining table, Ulfric sat in his stone throne. A gravely voice argued at his side. It sounded like the man had just swallowed rocks.

Ralof was stiff as he heard the Jarl reply to the man and head toward the small room on our left. I tugged on his arm.

"He's obviously busy. We should leave. Please."

"Well," Ralof scratched his head. "As long as we're here I can show you the barracks."

I followed the Nord through the stone passage way until we reached the main room of the barracks.

"Looks like everyone went to Candlehearth this evening." I gazed around the empty room. Particles of dust danced in the streams of moonlight that spilled in from the high windows. Rows of empty beds lined the walls to my right. I took a seat at a square table and patted the chair next to me.

"New dancer," Ralof set two tankards on the table and sat down with a bottle of wine. "The men, they get very lonely." He smiled and poured some wine into his mug. I held my hands up when he hovered the bottle over my cup.

"It's a shame about what happened to the last girl." the Nord sighed and shook his head, blonde locks twirling around his head. "They found her torn to pieces"

"Butchered." I murmured, tucking my legs under my bottom.

"So, Leles. Have you considered joining up with the Stormcloaks." He smiled at me, tossing his wine back like it was mead. I giggled and smoothed my hair back on my head.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't make a very strong soldier. I wouldn't even make a good meal if you got lost in a snow storm." I licked my dry lips. My empty mug stared back at me.

"Still not drinking, eh?"

"Oh no." I shook my head violently. "Alcohol takes me to some strange places."

Ralof laughed and threw his head back. He didn't know half of it though I had no intentions of telling him. I wasn't sure he would believe me if I did. We sat in silence afterwards. Tiny feet scurried about on the stone steps, echoing off the walls of the hallway at the end of the room. Ralof's eyes caught the moonlight seeping in from outside as he turned to face me and chewed on his lower lip. I watched as the mouthful of wine traveled down his throat in a long swallow. I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. Droplets of sweat formed on my palms. I wiped them on my fur leggings and lowered my gaze to the floor. Ralof's large hands tightened around the armrest of his chair. His finger nails, thick like tiny clamshells, picked away at the wood. An awkward tension frolicked in the air between us. The tiny feet had left our company. We were alone and the room felt so very large and empty.

"Leles?" His voice quivered as he spoke. It cracked as if dry, despite the wine he had been drinking previously.

Flowery pink blossomed in my cheeks. I kept my eyes down. His hands had left the grip of the armrest.

"Leles." He repeated louder, more strength in his voice.

My stomach rolled around in my abdomen. I didn't want to look up into his ocean eyes. They would suck me out to sea and drown me in a whirlpool. Against the majority of the little voices in my mind that told me what to do, I brought my head up and leaped into the blue waters of his eyes.

My body was stiff, overwhelmed, fighting the instinctive urge to push the burly Nord off of me. My personal space was completely invaded and I couldn't decide if I wanted it back. This kiss wasn't like the one I received under the twinkling light of the twin moons on the bridge at the edge of Riverwood. This one was stronger, almost intrusive as he pried my lips apart and pushed back against my chair so hard I thought I would topple over. My hands gripped the front my seat firmly, slowing sliding my legs to the ground to keep myself stable.

I was scared. Not of Ralof, or the possibility that he might accidentally squish me. I was scared to start something I didn't want to finish and even more scared of wanting to finish whatever we started. Ralof pulled away, feeling my body tense beneath his hands.

His face was a little startled, mouth open as if trying to speak. The last thing I wanted him to do was speak, apologize, ask me how my day was going. I brought myself forward and cupped his stubbly cheeks in my hand. This time I brought my lips to his face, one hand sliding into his blonde and uncombed hair.

A part of me was screaming, slapping me across the brain and telling me to run for the nearest exit. Yet another part of me fit so perfectly in the mans arms as he effortlessly picked me up from my seat. The strongest part of my mind decided to melt in Ralof's arms as he carried me to a nearby bed.

* * *

"You... You still have your maiden-hood, don't you." Ralof was staring into my eyes, his hands pressing into my ribcage as he held me above his bare chest. The room was so dimly lit after blowing out the candles and Ralof was whispering so quietly that I could barely see his mouth move.

The answer to Ralof's question was no. It was a horrible mistake that made up the most awkward and uncomfortable 6 minutes of my life. In school, I was the girl who desperately needed a boob job the moment I turned 18. Boys never flocked to me, but I had a boyfriend once. Once.

"I.. I can't." Ralof released me onto his chest with a sigh. His fingers combed through my loose hair and down my spiny back. "I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"Don't. I got carried away. Lonely men, remember?"

I lay on his chest in silence, my bare figureless body pressing against his. The little voice in my mind was currently attempting to give me a lecture.

_This is what happens when you trust gorgeous men. This is what happens when you listen to your endocrine system. This is what happens when you..._

Shut up.

I closed my eyes against the rise and fall of Ralof's chest. My head was pressed to him, listening for his heartbeat. It's pace was slowing.

I can't be fooling around like this. It's dangerous. Skyrim is in the middle of a a civil war and a dragon attack. My focus should be on keeping alive, figuring out my reason for being here. I can't be starting a relationship. Not with a man I could lose to the tragedies of war. Not with anyone ever. Love is a dangerous thing.

"Leles," A quite murmur vibrated against me.

"Hmm?"

"Are you of age?"

"Of what?"

"or are you still a child?" I looked up to find his gaze but he was staring at the ceiling, hand still in my hair.

"I'm 17. What is that in Skyrim?"

His face reflected a blank stare. If there was expression, I couldn't see it through the dark.

"I know woman who are married at that age. Some even have children of their own." I returned my face to his chest.

"I am ashamed of my behavior. If you were any younger I..."

"No!" I pushed myself off of him. My voice was raised almost to a shout. "You shouldn't be. Please don't say that." The last thing I wanted was for Ralof to feel guilty when I was clearly to blame. "I shouldn't have let things get as far as they did." I rolled over next to the Nord. My hands reached out for his muscular arms.

"It isn't because... " Like. I like him. Love was not acceptable. Don't say it. "I really do like you. I'm just, so scared." I pulled myself against his arm and squeezed it tight.

"You don't need to explain anything." Ralof scooped me into his arms again. I wanted to cry. He lowered his head to kiss me. I ran my hand down the bristles of his cheek.

"Good night, cub." I wrapped my arms around his chest and held on tightly. If I let go, he might just vanish.

When I woke up, I was indeed alone. And aside from the tiny feet the scurried towards the crumbs under the table, the barracks were an empty place after all.


	28. A Bite of Frost

**Chapter 28: A Bite of Frost**

Horax sat in silence as I pushed my leeks and potato around the plate. Occasionally, he would look up from his book to see how my progress was coming along.

"Did you.."

"No" I snarled, stabbing a potato wedge. I let my fork clatter against the plate as I dropped it. "Have you finished your business in Windhelm yet?"

Horax drew his head back and scrunched his face up. He opened his mouth but then closed it quickly and shook his head.

Great. Another day in this snow ridden city. I wanted to leave. I was to humiliated to even want to say goodbye.

I finally pushed the plate away and leaned back in my chair.

"Why did you need to come to Windhelm?"

"Recruiting." He licked his finger and turned the page of his book.

"For what?"

The elf lowered his head and frowned at me. I gave him a slow nod of acknowledgment.

"Why don't you go walk around town, deliver packages. You're good and doing meaningless stuff like that."

"I don't want to go out." My shoulders dropped along with my head.

Horax shut the book, obviously agitated by my presence. "Would you rather stay here with me? Because I can sour that chipper mood of yours like curdled milk."

"Gee!" I grabbed my boots and began to slip them on.

"Look out though. There's a psychopath on the loose." Horax had returned to his book.

"Well," I puffed. "You want to send me outside but you're perfectly aware the butcher is roaming about?"

Horax pressed a finger against his lips.

"Don't mention the butcher ever!" I stared at him with a puzzled look on my face. What was he scared about?

"Besides, you have nothing to worry about. The butcher only preys on pretty women._"_

* * *

The sky was relatively clear this afternoon. Thin sheets of sunlight spread across the city though it did little to melt the frost away. I poked around the stalls of the market district. Horax had given me a meager spending allowance, convinced I was going to blow it all off. In the game, I was most definitely a pack rat, hoarding iron ingots and cheese wheels like I'd never see another. The jewelry did look rather sparkly, however. My compulsion to by something I didn't need was rather low at the moment. In fact, my compulsion to do anything was low. What I wanted to do was crawl under the covers and pretend I didn't exist.

I left the market area through a tall alley and passed through what appeared to be a cemetery. One grave in particular stood out. Stains of blood were dried on the gravestone. I quickly scurried up the steps and looked around me. I was back at Candlehearth hall and had come full circle. A woman shouted from not too far away, a command, an instruction. Swords clashed against other steel weapons, maybe even shields. Very slowly, I walked up the steps to the palace and peered into the courtyard. Several Stormcloaks slashed their weapons against practice dummies, some against other soldiers. The woman giving commands was walking around with her hands on her hips, critiquing her fellow soldiers. She was dressed in the armor of an officer: Brown pelt armor, minus the bear helmet.

I gasped when I spotted Ralof. He was staring into the woman's eyes wielding a battleaxe, brows furrowed in concentration. She raised his elbows slightly and then pushed down on his shoulders. He nodded his head in her direction as she carried on inspecting the next soldier.

I stood in my spot, watching as Ralof swung his ax high over his head and brought it crashing against a wooden dummy. Beads of sweat trickled down his face. I was feeling like quite the creeper.

Regardless, I couldn't bring myself to look away until the Stormcloaks headed inside. The officer woman held Ralof back and placed a hand on his shoulder, sliding it ever so slowly down to his bicep. The two continued to talk for a few minutes before Ralof caught my wandering eyes and smiled. The woman turned to follow the rest of the soldiers while I slumped against the wall in an attempt to hide myself.

"I was curious." I shrugged my shoulders as Ralof took his first step on the stone stairs.

"So I could see." At least he was smiling.

"When are you heading out again?"

"Before the week is out." He took a seat next to me on the cold ground.

I didn't even know what day it was. I placed my hand over his. "It's good that we saw each other when we did."

"Ralof of Riverwood! Are you coming in for a drink or not?" The voice of the woman approached our position. It was much different than the commanding tone she had used previously. This time it was light-hearted, jovial, sparkling.

Ralof pulled his hand out from under mine as the woman walked through the arches at the top of the steps.

The woman was the definition of Nordic beauty. Her skin was pale, smooth like a fresh layer of snowfall, and glistening under the honey colored hair that was immaculately pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a fierce green, much lighter than my own, like that of newly sprouted grass in the spring. She was a big woman, muscular, not an ounce of fat where it didn't belong. Her sharply angled jaw resembled that of a fox and framed the smile on her face which glowed like the sun; until she spotted Ralof on the floor with me. It quickly disintegrated.

"I thought you were coming inside." All the pep in her voice was gone.

"Fjorna, this is Leles, the woman Jarl Ulfric and I met at Helgen. The woman wrinkled her golden speckled nose.

Ralof stood up next to her. "Fjorna Scar-Giver is the commander of my squadron. She's one of the only females to have such a high position."

I nodded my head and smiled from my seat on the ground. Scar-Giver. Stone-Fist. Horse-Crusher. Nords and their names.

"You're the girl who arrived with that Thalmor spy." She defensively crossed her arms across her chest.

"Thalmor spy!" I laughed against my better judgment. Fjorna didn't find it so funny.

"Thalmor spy?" Ralof repeated. "What does she mean?"

I shook my head. "I don't know any Thalmor."

"She lies to our face." Fjorna spat. "That Altmer, the imperial spy, the one that preys on our women at night."

"Horax?" The people of Windhelm thought Horax was the butcher? "No..." I shook my head.

"Leles, he is your companion?" Ralof looked down at me. His eyes glistened with confusion, hurt, and a spot of betrayal.

"Yes. I travel with him. He saved the town of Whiterun from an attack on the western watch tower. He is Dragonborn, not Thalmor." I rose to my feet as well, showing the Nord woman she was no superior to me.

"Dragonborn, how dare you make mockery of a hero." Fjorna's green meadow eyes were stabbing blades into mine.

"Dragonborn? Leles this isn't funny." He lowered his head at me.

"I'm not lying to you! Please, Ralof."

Fjorna shook her head, ponytail flapping behind her. "Go to the barracks, Ralof."

"Fjorna, I believe her." My eyes lit up at his statement

"Go to the barracks!" Ralof, the good stormcloak, obeyed.

Fjorna grabbed the collar of my shirt, sharp nails ripping into the fabric. Personal space. Personal space.

"I don't know what you're playing at, if you're helping him or if you're just another dirty imperial," Her face was not quite as pleasant up close. "but I'm going to find out."

The Nord threw me back to the ground and stormed off to the palace. I sat in the dirty snow for several minutes, picking gravel from my scratched hands.

* * *

Dinner had come around and my appetite was back in full throttle. Horax watched as I shoveled spoon fulls of carrot soup into my mouth, pausing every once in a while to munch a slice of garlic bread. Fjorna's disappearing smile kept reappearing in my mind. The way her voice cheered up when she called for Ralof made me ill. I wondered if Ralof wanted to sleep with Fjorna, I wondered if he already had. If she wanted to, I'm sure all she had to do was ask.

"Everyone thinks you're the butcher." I spooned another mouthful of soup into my mouth. Horax's head shot up from his book. "That's why they all run away when you walk in."

When I turned my head, Horax was at my side. He grabbed my shoulders and shook them hard. A bit of carrot soup spilled out the corner of my mouth.

"I told you not to say anything!" His lips trembled in anger, nails digging into my skin.

"I didn't say anything!" I shouted, equally as annoyed and angry as he was. "Why do they think that, hmm? Who have you been screwing around this time?" I gasped as I was hurled across the room and into a wall. I scrambled to my feet and coughed. The copper taste of blood from my bitten lower lip tingled on my tongue. I let out a shrill roar and charged Horax, sending both of us toppling over the table of our small room. The music in the room above us had stopped playing. Several pairs of footsteps creeped towards our door.

Horax wrestled my puny arms away from his face and rolled me over into a puddle of orange soup. I pressed him against a front leg of the bed and rammed my head into his chest. I'm sure it hurt me more than it hurt him.

"Leles, stop!" he shouted over my grunts of rage. I was angry, annoyed, confused, and before I knew it, tears were pouring down my cheeks. "What's the matter with you?"

Salty droplets dribbled into my mouth. I felt a bruise forming in the tender spot where I crashed my chin into the wall. I sat on my knees in Horax's lap, hands desperately trying to gouge his eyes out.

"Nothing! Nothing even matters at all!" I was cracking under the weight of Skyrim's atmosphere. I couldn't stay here. I was useless against everything.

A slap across my face made me suck up my tears. My eyes widened as I stared through Horax's face. Even his eyes widened. "Leles, I-I"

I stood to my feet silently and left the room. Dozens of unfamiliar faces were crowded around our door. "Get away." I snarled.

A few people backed away from me but the majority just stood there, waiting for something to happen.

"This isn't a reality show. Get out!" I shouted this time. Everybody left this time. I left too. I was in need of some air.

* * *

In the three days I had been in Windhelm, I hadn't even bothered to visit the grey quarter. Maybe that Dunmer cornerclub was open.

I wandered around the streets of Windhelm until I finally accepted that I was lost and cursed myself. Perhaps that building was the Arentino residence, perhaps it was the White Phial, perhaps it was the gate to the docks and I could attempt to sail far far away from here. The city obviously didn't keep their streets very well lit. Somehow I had taken a wrong turn an ended up lost out of my mind.

"Go back to Morrowind, Dark Elf maggots! You're not welcome here!" A drunken voice barked into the darkness. I suppose I was closer to the Gray Quarter after all. I shuffled my feet in the blackened snow. A scurry in the firewood behind me made me jump.

Rats. I sighed and continued on. At least there was a small flare of light to guide my steps along this stretch of neighborhood. Light escaped from the top floor of the old wooden house in front of me.

I was beginning to get cold, wandering around the dark alley ways. The light from the once lit house had been put out. I hurried along until a shiver of cold chilled my bones and traveled from my neck to my toes. I was standing in front Calixto's house. There was a butcher on the loose.

The streets were dark once again. My breathing quickened as I spun around, lost once more. I reached to my waist. The small elven dagger Horax had given me was sheathed. I cursed loudly. How could I have done something so stupid? A crack in the stone floor caused me to tumble, reopening the cut on my lip. A pair of feet moved in closer from the distance.

The air was pressed out of my lungs as a heavy body smashed itself onto my back. A scream nearly escaped my lips before my head was yanked back by my hair and a hand was clamped on to of my mouth.

I tried to roll over, I tried to bite the hand. All I managed to do was lick it, bringing a horribly sour and salty taste into my mouth. The man on top of me wasn't saying anything. He was breathing heavily and repeating "Shhhh shhuu shuuu shhh while I wriggled beneath him.

"Leles!" Never before was I so happy to hear the elf's call. Was I going to be rescued? Was the Butcher going to take this chance to escape or take a chance and kill me first? The man simply stopped, as if waiting for an answer from the air around him. Perhaps now, he was as scared as I was. I took my own chance and thrusted my body upward.

Calixto was caught off guard and fumbled to his side. I pushed myself off the ground quickly and started to run.

"Help!" My primal instinct was to to scream for my life "The Butcher! Help! My screams echoed off the buildings.

"Leles!"

Too much was happening too fast. The wind was blowing through my ears. Footsteps were in front of me, footsteps were behind me. A stumbling man knocked me onto my back. I unsheathed my dagger and plunged it into his chest.

"Help!" I called out again, this time, for the man who's warm blood poured out onto my hand.

A Dunmeri woman rushed out of her house followed by a man with a torch. Her hands flew to her mouth as she cried out and turned into the man's chest.

"He's dead!"

"Leles! Are you safe? Are you hurt?" Horax pried me out from under the dead man's body.

"I think- I think I killed a man." My stunned face reflected no expression. Horax plucked me off the ground and held me against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he sat down on the steps of the Gray Quarter.

Two Stormcloak soldiers on guard duty ran up to the scene. They eyed Horax in a panic, a young girl crying hysterically in his arms.

"What-"

"We can heal him! Who can heal him?" my words were barely audible between the heavy sobs.

One guard turned to the woman on his right. "Go get Galmar Stone-Fist. Tell him his brother is dead."

Horax gasped and held my body out from his. "Leles, what did you do?"

He sat me in his lap and turned us toward the corpse of Rolff Stone-Fist.

Surely, Sheogorath and Sanguine were laughing at me now.


	29. Dead Mans Blood

**Chapter 29: Dead Man's Blood.**

The guards standing outside my cell rapped their swords against the iron bars whenever I attempted to fall asleep. After a few days, the noise didn't bother me. I sat in my cell collecting dirt just like yesterday, and the day before, and so on.

The nightly creepy crawlies scurried along the dirt floor and into my hay pile. The jail room was was pure wall, dark and musty without a shred of opening to the outside world. They didn't put windows in on purpose. They wanted the prisoners to suffocate in the warm damp air.

A rustle of keys interrupted my session of picking at the scabs of bug bites on my legs. I moved to the corner of my cell in an attempt to peak through the bars. A few Stormcloak guards were standing at the doorway, jingling there keys as they opened the metal door.

"It's a shame you're still alive elf. I was sure Galmar was going to snap your neck." A familiar voice boomed through the empty room. "Walk." The blonde haired officer pushed Horax onto his knees before stepping over him and beckoning the soldiers to follow. Her hair was tied up in a smooth bun, tied so tight it pulled on the skin of her temples.

Horax stood to his feet shakily. I knew he wasn't scared. Could it have been from pain?

My question was quickly answered as I watched Horax lift his chin up high. Blood spilled from his forhead, his mouth, his nose. It ran down his leg and when he stumbled forward, I got a glimpse of the large spots of blood stained on the back of his ragged prison robes. Again, he lifted his head up high and proceeded toward the open cell next to me.

"Not that one, goldenrod. The one at the end." When Horax finally managed to limp over to the cell, Fjorna quickly shoved him inside and locked the gate.

She cackled, taking a few steps back to admire her work. "I knew it. I knew it the minute I layed eyes on you two entering the city. You made an idiots move going after Rolff Stone-Fist, brother of the second in command of the Stormcloaks." She turned her gaze directly towards Horax's crumpled body."And you another Thalmor inbred, finally we have the butcher behind bars."

Fjorna turned to the exit and ordered one guard to keep watch.

"And I don't want to hear one word between you Imperial spy and you Thalmor scum. It makes me sick to look at you."

Fjorna began up the steps. I listened for a sound from Horax's cell but like usual, he made little noise. I crawled back onto my hay pile and pulled my knees to my chest. When were they going to rip me from my cage and beat me like they did Horax? I wouldn't last 5 minutes. They would toss my body into the snow for the ravens, mashed to a pulp.

Rolff Stone-Fist: drunkard, racist, and brother of Galmar Stone-Fist, second under Ulfric. I hadn't even realized they were kin while I played the game. I had blood on my hands and no matter how hard I could scrub and pick at the little dry flakes of crimson, It would always remain.

Any dreams I had in my cell were nightmares. Always the same scene:

_I lay in the snowfall at the courtyard of the palace of the kings, a blanket of white surrounding me. I was suffocating under a dead man, my dagger twisting between his ribs while warm blood pooled on my stomach. The man looks up to me with the face of a rotting corpse. Sometimes it's Ralof or Horax, other times its my own grandpa. Bugs make their way through the mans melting eye sockets and jump onto my face. They nibble on me whispering in my ear and laughing like a maniac. In the end, nothing remains but two skeletons and the dagger in between them._

I shut my eyes and crawled into the corner of the room. It's where I've spent my last few days melting my eyes with salt water tears. Grandpa, the man I grew up calling father, his face was nothing more than a skeleton to me. His name... why couldn't I remember his name?

A small rodent crept in front of my cell. I reached out to pet it but it kept it's distance, nostrils flickering in the air.

"Hey you," I whispered. "Look, you want to trade places?" I was the rat in the cage.

I was a monster.

* * *

Tapping on the jail cell mingled it's way into my hellish slumber. I squinted my eyes open to see the silhouette of another guard. The lights were out in the prison and slowly my cell gate opened.

They're coming to drag me out, to chain me to the wall and whip me till I'm nothing but shreds of flesh.

"Leles." A quiet whisper escaped the guards helmet. The man crawled into my cell and wrapped his cold hand around my ankle, giving it a light shake.  
"It's time to go."

This time I recognized the voice. The sharp, clear accent that many Altmer spoke with. If Horax wasn't so vulgar, his tone would indiscriminately come off as condescending.

"Are we dead?" Please let me be dead.

"Stop dreaming. Say goodbye to your rat friends."

I squinted my eyes attempting to adjust to the almost black room. The only light seeped in from a torch stone in the hall passed the entrance of the prison.

"Where did you get those?" I reached my hand out to graze the ridges of his helmet.

He turned me toward his cell. It was too dark to see details, but I could make out the outline of a woman hunched over in the corner.

"And how..."

"Now isn't the time for questions."

Which was a fair enough answer for me, at the moment.

The barracks were still lit by the candles and the sunlight blaring in. I had lost track of time in the cell, I could have sworn it was night. I glanced over the bed I slept in with Ralof. Another guard was laying in it now, drool spilling onto the hard pillows.

Horax placed his hand on my shoulder as he crouched even lower than he was before. He rolled into the corner just at the right of the entryway. The lock on the personal belongings chest was quickly picked and he retrieved his ebony bow. Three guards were awake in the barracks. One was asleep. Horax killed them all.

I was trembling by the time he slit the throat of the second woman sitting in her chair. Only one of the guards was wearing a full face helmet. I sighed in relief when none of them were Ralof.

"Hurry. Put this on." He tossed a set of armor to me and rolled the helmet, along with a hunting bow, shortly after. "No crying, ok? we only have one shot."

My body was swimming in the soldiers armor and although it was still warm, I shivered. I stopped Horax before the entrance to the main hall.

"We look nothing like Nords. We're too skinny and not the right height." I croaked, mouth full of cotton.

Horax removed his helmet and put his hands on my shoulders, bending forward slightly to bring himself closer to my eye level.

"I'm going to distract them and make my way to the docks." my eyes danced across his face. No scars marred his face and the only sign of injury was a small bruise on his cheekbone.

"How? What do I do?" I grabbed his arms and swallowed a lump in my throat.

"Get to the stables and change out of that uniform immediately. Wait with Shadowmere. Set them on me when I leave." Horax slipped out from under my grip and pulled his helmet back on his head. I waited a minute before I followed after him.

"Stop him!" I shouted. "Don't let the prisoner escape!" To my unfortunate surprise, Ralof stood guarding the palace door. He wore a horned helmet but I could see his face perfectly. Deep bags hung under his eyes.

Fjorna and Galmar came sprinting out of the command room. "What of the other prisoner, The Imperial dog?" Galmar's hoarse voice boomed. Both of their eyes were wide, not with panic but with urgency. In the swirl of commotion, nobody realized my height difference.

"Dead, she's dead." Galmar let out a raging grunt and stormed out of the door followed by Fjorna and her tight bun. I followed after immediately, not bothering to turn and look at Ralof's reaction.

* * *

I had been hiding under the stack of hay at the stable for hours before Horax finally pulled the straw off of my body. The armor I was wearing had been dumped into a crack of the frozen waters surrounding Windhelm soon after my arrival at the stables. Horax handed me a thick fur sweater as I unraveled the blue sash I was wearing as a shirt. The leather trousers had been insufficient to keep me warm as I trembled under the hay pile, shaking out of both fear and the cold.

Only until the city was out of site was my breathing able to return to normal. Helgen's flames, Ralof's skin, dead mans blood. I was gathering plenty of bad memories as of lately and memories were so hard to forget.

"No more crying." Horax caught my sniffles before the tears had even began to fall. "Listen, Skyrim is not a fair place but..."

"Please, Horax. Not now." I laid my head against his back. He must have been burning up under this sun.

When I gathered up enough strength to look around I found myself at a familiar and unpleasant scene. "Morvunskar?"

Horax helped me down from Shadowmere's back and nodded his head. "I can't stay out here. I'm getting drained."

After careful consideration, we decided not to delve into the depths of the fort and set up camp at the entrance of the ruins. Neither one of us wanted to find another portal leading to a party in Oblivion. Well, at least that's what Horax agreed on.

It didn't occur to me that Horax hadn't drank blood since we entered jail until I woke up to a searing pain in my neck and a fuzzy clouds in my head. I sat up swiftly just to have my vision black out and my head slam against the floor behind me. The noise awoke Horax as well.

"Hey, are you alright?" The elf crawled over my body and lifted me by my shoulders.

"You fed on me!" I attempted to lunge onto his chest but my depleted energy level allowed me to simply fall into his chest while he sat me up.

"I haven't consumed anything in four days and I lost a lot of blood in Windhelm." No apology. What was I expecting?

"You- you should warn me!" I shouted rubbing the pin prick holes in my neck.

"I didn't know you wanted to be aware of it." The elf returned to his seat across from me. We didn't say another word until night fell and we were back on the road.

* * *

My eyes were heavy although I had gotten plenty of sleep. Every inch of my body hurt like a troll had had pounded me with it's great fists. Since I had spent the last four days in a jail cell, I was beginning to think all the pain was mentally inflicted on myself.

"Hey."

"Mhm."

"Galmar tortured you." I said in a very soft voice.

"If you can call _that_ torture." the elf chuckled. I wanted to gag. There was nothing humorous about that. "but he couldn't get a word out of me. Just threw me in the cell and I healed myself like it was a pinch from a mudcrab."

Torture reminded me of blood. Blood reminded me of death. Death reminded me of myself.

"Tell me how you got out of prison." I hugged the elf's waist as he shifted in the saddle.

"Well, I picked the lock." He laughed light heartedly, not the pretentious sneer as usual.

"Why didn't it break?" I saw him pick three locks with that pick. Not easy ones either. There was only one lock pick I knew that could do that.

"I'm good." His sneer was back in an instant.

"How did you manage to sneak the skeleton key past the guards?" I asked.

Horax was silent for a few seconds. "Don't ask where I hid it."

I didn't want to know much after that.

"I know who the butcher is." I returned to my soft voice.

"Calixto Corrium." Horax's voice was callous.

"How did you know?" and why wouldn't he have told anyone?

"I smelled him when he attacked you in the alley." Horax's stoic mask had a tiny tear in it. Droplets of emotion tickled his throat. I couldn't quite place my finger on it; anger? agitation? empathy?

I sat in silence wondering whether I should ask my next question or not. The last thing I wanted was for an angry elf to dump me off his horse and leave me lost in the middle of the unforgiving snow.

"Ask it." He whispered.

"Why do they think you're the butcher?" To be fair to the Windhelm guards, it wouldn't have surprised me if Horax was.

"Several women were murdered by the Butcher before I knew it was Calixto. I was very, close to one of them." I wanted to ask more. Horax shifted in his seat and suddenly, I didn't want to ask anymore.

"Okay." Horax turned his head to the side, surprised that I wasn't pecking into his personal life. " who."

Horax stiffened under my grip. Since when did the mention of a woman make him so tense? He remained silent and I took a hint.

Moon beams reflected off the glossy waters washing up on the shores of Dawnstar. My nerves were making me sweat as Horax halted his horse before the entrance of the small city.

"Maybe it's best if I stay at the Inn." I slid off Shadowmere and stood picking at my nails. "You can come get me whenever your done." I wasn't sure if I even trusted him with that statement but it sounded better than fresh meat walking into a sanctuary for assassins.

"What?" Horax laughed as he fed Shadowmere a carrot and walked her to a nearby tree. "Look, this is my second home. It would be good for you to meet the family."

* * *

Empty. I sighed in relief as I gazed about the personlless main chamber, although I doubted anyone was tucked away in their beds like good girls and boys. Horax sniffed the damp earthy air and grinned.

"Make yourself at home."

I was tempted to run right back up the ladder I crawled down. Horax reclined in a wooden chair, his boots dripping water onto the wooden table they rested on.

"Well, well. I knew you were getting tired of those old men in the torture chamber." The Redgurads deep voice caused me to jump in my place. Before I even saw his face the man was standing behind me, a rough finger under my chin. "But this, is refreshingly young."

Horax sat in his dark armor, arms across his chest smiling from ear to ear. The pale gold of his smooth skin sharply contrasted the deep leather. I was holding my breath as I watched him slowly shake his head.

"She's with me, Nazir. She's family."

"Family?" Another voice entered the room. A tiny girl walked into the room, the skirt of her red dress sliding across the floor. I was still trembling as Nazir's breath traveled down my back.

The young girl walked in front of me and gazed up to my face. "But she's... not elven."

"This is Leles. She's family of another kind, something the the two of you can relate to." Horax announced from his seat, allowing me to finally breathe.

"I apologize." The Redguard smiled as he came out from behind me. "As you heard, I am Nazir."

I nodded my head with a meek smile. "And you are Babette."

"Horax must have told you."

"I haven't said a word." The elf added.

Babette gave me a puzzled look and opened her mouth before a shrill voice broke the air.

"Liiiiiistener!" The man in jesters clothing ran so swiftly to the top of the stairs he had to grip the stone wall to keep himself from flying off. "You're home again, home! Come to listen to the whispers of the Night Mother, Listener? Cicero has been keeping her so well..."

Cicero caught my panicked glare. His smile momentarily faltered and his voice dropped. "tended." The skinny man darted away from his spot. The sounds of his racing footsteps echoed in the stone room.

"Don't mind Cicero." Nazir advised. "He hasn't seen many new faces since, the incident."

"Ah."

Horax stood to his feet and took my hand in his. "Allow me to show you around, introduce you to the rest."

I didn't have a choice anyway.

"Listener..." Cicero scurried behind Horax "Have you brought good Cicero... a friend?" The man squealed as he peeked at me from under Horax's armpit.

Horax looked into my eyes for guidance. He opened his mouth and shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head side to side.

'Um, hello Cicero." The man's amber eyes traveled from my hair to my feet and back to my face, roaming around and taking in every inch. The corners of his mouth rose to puff the apples of his cheeks. Rosy puffy cheeks. Cicero and his grin, so disturbingly maintaining the facade of an innocent jester.

If I wasn't aware of the mind that lived beneath the locks of blood red hair, I would have said Cicero was _cute._ That was probably the crazy talking.


	30. Sanctum Sanctorum

**A/N:**

Unfortunately for me, school has started. Chapters are going to be coming along veeerryy slowly while I slave over my schedule, chock full of weighted classes. I don't know why I do this to myself. Sorry guys! Hope you have been enjoying it so far! I'll try for at least one a week maybe more when i get a handle on my classes.

**Chapter 30: Sanctum Sanctorum**

The sanctuary, so it would appear, had a tendency to collect dust like old texts of a foreign tongue. Babette, being the ancient vampire she is, felt at home among the soot, the other members could care less, and Cicero hardly noticed it's presence. I, however, found it absolutely horrifying. The dust rolled in accompanied by cobwebs and an abundance of nasty critters that made the dark corners their home. If I was to "make myself at home" in the sanctuary, they would have to go.

"Ahk!" I jumped onto an empty crate and swatted at a flapping moth that had just emerged from a crack in the stone wall.

Horax ran into the empty living area. "What?" He asked while wiping at a drizzle of icing on his pronounced chin.

The large moth fluttered around for a bit before clumsily making it's way to the floor. Horax bent over and let the creature crawl onto his slender index finger.

"Are you aware that you are sharing your home with a family of moths?" I backed as far into the wall as possible when the elf brought the moth to my face. Luna moths were pretty, butterflies were pretty, but this thing? The moth stretched it's great wings before me, revealing one dark spot on each wing. Dark brown eyelets stared at me in ridicule. "Get it away!"

Horax let out a hearty chuckle. Every noise in this sanctuary bounced back and forth on the walls.

"This is just horrible!" I shoved my broom in his face, scaring the moth away. A bloody cloth dangled on the bristles of the broom, red and brown stains from old tortures. "In the kitchen, really?" I hopped down from the crate and fed the rag to the fire. "Health code! It's an extreme violation."

"What's health code?" Horax asked, watching as I plucked up my bucket and proceeded upstairs.

"Look," I narrowed my eyes from the top step. "You're assassins, not trolls. This place is filthy. What it need's is a little..."

Horax shook his head at me. "Don't even think about getting fancy with the flowers."

"Flowers! Pretty, pretty flowers!" Cicero danced in the corner where the night mother stood.

I gasped, dropping my cleaning bucket to the floor. Little streams of water dripped down the steps, feeding the growing moss. Horax palmed his face from down below.

"Need to get mother some flowers." He smiled at me and stood silent for a good moment. I didn't dare move. The silent moment turned into several.

"Then it's settled!" Horax clamped his hands down on my bony shoulders. I jumped once again, dropping my broomstick. "Leles, you and Cicero can go look for flowers. He hasn't been out in ages"

I whipped my head to face the elf who smiled down at me menacingly. My body was rigid under his hands and even more so when he began to squeeze on my shoulders. Cicero nodded his head so hard I thought it might fall off.

"I-I can work with what's in the garden." I motioned toward the poisoners nook. "Umm, your mother would like nightshade, wouldn't she?"

Cicero reached into the jug besides the vertical coffin and withdrew a bundle of dried flowers. He inched closer, testing the ground as he crept as though one of us might leap out and bite him. He held the bundle to his nose and released a satisfied sigh.

"Oooh, the flower of our mother smells just as beautiful dead as alive!" the slender Imperial squealed and extended the bouquet out in front of me. Gingerly, I reached out to accept it.

"Not for you!" He snapped and pulled the flowers into his chest.

I scurried behind Horax and hid behind the sleeve of his arm.

"For the listener." he hissed and then with an exaggerated bow, held the flowers out for Horax.

"Yes, Cicero thank you." The elf looked down at my hiding space and raised his eyebrows. They were so white I could hardly tell he had any but the pronounced ridges of his brow bones cast shadows on where they resided.

"I'm not going anywhere with him." I whispered, peeking under his sleeve to gaze at the dancing man. "He'll wear my skin as a hat."

"I need the two of you out of here." Horax raised his arm over my head, exposing me once again. "There are concerns that need to be discussed with Babette and Nazir" Horax shoved me closer to Cicero. "and I don't want any distractions." he pointed two fingers at Cicero and I before turning around.

"You'll have fun!" He ensured me from the top of the stairs. "Take your bow, go flower hunting, bring back something for dinner." And with a wave of his hand he proceeded down the steps.

I glanced at Cicero without turning my head. He was a few inches taller than me, grinning mouth and white teeth right at eye level.

"How exciting! Leles and Cicero on the hunt!"

Horax's bald head was slowly disappearing as it bobbed down the steps. I cursed him under my breath and hoped he'd fall.

* * *

"You are an inspiration, did you know that?"

I looked down from my position leaning over the table. Cicero sat in a chair, arms leaning against the table and head propped in his hands. Amber eyes sparkled at me. Tiny flames reflected off the glassy shine.

"Cicero, It's just a deer."

"Ahhh, but imagine if it were a man under that blade. Furless, smooth, pink insides."

I carefully tied off the ends of the leaking large intestine and removed my hands from the deer's abdominal cavity. The man watched as I slid my bloody hands into a bowl of water. I stared into him with furrowed eyebrows while my hands wiped themselves dry on a cloth.

"Oh but do continue with the slicing and the stabbing."

Cicero hummed to himself while I cracked ribs and emptied the carcass on the table. I shuddered at the squeaky high notes and the drumming of fingertips against the table.

"Sneaky Cicero heard the Listener speaking with the unchild." His hands crawled toward me, dragging his body across the table and closer to where I stood. "The Listener says you can forsee the future."

I rolled my eyes as he lowered his voice to a quiet hush. "Won't the young seer tell good Cicero his future?"

I released an agitated huff and slapped my hands into the red bowl of water. Honey eyes twinkled against the flame of the fireplace. My eyes shifted around the blocks of stone and moss on the walls until my gaze landed on the coffin of the nightmother.

A sly grin spread on my face before I decided against saying "You will never, in all of your miserable deranged life, hear the whispers of the Night Mothers." No. Something like that was probably dangerous.

* * *

A large dish of Venison pie sat on the wooden table in the main hall of the sanctuary. Cicero scurried onto his seat and immediately reached for the plate of sweetrolls while Nazir shot him a sharp glare. Babette and Horax sat with a goblet of scarlet blood while the two initiates, Else and Carsten, loaded their plates with a slice of pie.

"Where is the new blood?" Else piped while picking the bits of carrots out of the mush on her plate.

Horax flipped through another page of the tattered book in his lap. "She made stew to feed the torture victims." He brought the goblet up to his lips and wiped away the remaining streak of red on his lips. "I think she's lonely and misses her cat."

"Ooooh! Cicero likes cat's too! and rats, and birds!"

"I don't think that's common ground, Cicero." Nazir informed, stabbing a cube of venison.

The hall before the torture chamber gave me shivers. None of the torch stones were lit but the light from the firepit in the chamber guided my journey as I carried my tray. Three bodies hung from their wrists on the wall, heads bowed and eyes closed. I wrapped my shawl over my nose in attempt to dampen the overpowering scent of stale urine. A man in the far corner moaned in his sleep.

I set my tray down on a table at the left of the room and turned to face the two victims across from me. My steps were quiet across the floor as I made my way to the woman on my left with the jug of water. Her skin was white and translucent. Green veins branched across her ribcage and stolen breasts. I placed my hand on her shoulder. Her brown hair was damp and greasy against the back of my hand.

"She's dead." A voice called from behind me. His voice scratched with every word . "Since the morning."

I crouched down in front of the woman's body. Her head dangled above me with blue lips and purple eye sockets.

"What are you here for, elf? A new initiate come for some kicks?" I glanced over my shoulder to the emaciated man on the wall. Red and purple bulges around his eyes left him squinting at me through tiny slits.

"I have water and some food." The man's swollen face followed me as I made my way back to the tray.

"Water?" A desperate cry came from the last woman in the room. Her lips were white and cracked. Her deep brown eyes drooped at me. "Please..."

My stomach was turning. The torture room was well... exactly what I had expected. I took the jug from it's spot on the floor near the dead woman and brought it to the blonde Nord. The water drizzled down her chin and chest causing a trail of goosbumps to raise in it's place.

The red haired man across the room watched suspiciously as I made my way to him. By now I was choking back tears and the vomit in my throat. His welts stood out like small apples and the gashes on his legs were open and vibrant red. I held the jug to his lips as he finished off what was left.

The soup had cooled down quite a bit when I brought the bowl to the man. It was mostly venison broth and vegetables. Who knows how long it had been since their last meal. I found out after a few spoonfuls when the man spewed out the contents of his stomach. I gasped and tripped over the raised stone, sending the bowl crashing into the wall behind me. My mouth grew sour with and tingly before I turned onto my side and retched until I was only dry heaving and tears were streaming down my cheeks.

The blonde woman in the opposite corner was crying as well. Our sobs echoed around the room before being interrupted by the croaky laughter of the red haired man near me. Saliva clung to the threads of his beard.

"You call yourself an assassin?" He choked in between his sneers. I shook my head in between sobs.

"You think you are doing us good?" The man cringed as the vile stomach acids scratched along his esophagus. "Because you are not. You come bringing food thinking we want it."

"I wanted to help." my wails drifted down the hall and into the main chamber. The assassins chatted loudly and clanked their dishware together. "I'm not a murderer. I want to help" I sat up and wiped at my eyes with my shirt but the pools of tears continued to overflow. The sour smell of puke and cold soup filled my nostrils. Vomit was drying in my hair.

"We'd rather be dead. " The man's bulging eye sockets narrowed at me until they were closed. "You want to help, why don't you just kill us."

"Stop it!" I screamed through my gurgling and choking. "I'm not a murderer!"

I crawled to my feet and tripped down the ledge of stone. I lay on my side on the mossy stone until footsteps raced in front of me. Pushing myself up, I looked to see half the sanctuary in the doorway.

Horax stood in front, gazing about the room in bewilderment. "What are you doing?"

Once again, I wiped away at the tears. My face was already puffy and my eyes were stained red. "Nothing." I choked.

The blonde in the corner was still bawling. The venison broth had splashed into the firepit and sizzled out a portion of flame. The red haired man stared into Horax's face and released a guttural laugh. Babette, Cicero, and Carsten watched as their Listener curled his lip and stepped into the room.

"Horax, don't." I pleaded grasping at his legs and tugging on the tail of his robe. "Stop. Please!"

The man on the wall continued his roar. Babette rushed to me and plucked me off the ground. Cicero was hopping in his place and trying to peer over Carsten's shoulder. The hooded Nord watched in awe, fascination and fear plastered on his face. I glanced back to see Horax reach into his robes before Babette tugged me from the chamber and out of view.

The man continued to laugh until a gurgle spilled over his lips.

* * *

For the second time since I arrived in Skyrim, I drank. And just like the first, I didn't know when to stop. I had ditched the mug an hour ago and had since been nursing another bottle of mead. or Ale. It didn't matter either way.

Nazir watched from across the table as I dozed off in between sips. My reddened eyes were puffed like roses.

"He isn't back. It's been an hour and he isn't back." I dribbled, passing the bottle between my palms. Nazir caught the bottle before it slid past my hand and off the table.

"He's trying to clean his boots." Nazir tugged the bottle out of my grasping hands. "I believe you've had enough, Leles."

"It's not enough!" I howled, standing up from my chair. "I can still talk! It's not enough!" I kicked the chair over and wobbled my way over to the table where a bottle of wine stood tall. I was dead set on flushing the reality away.

I managed to make it to the long table before my feet slid out from under me and sent me crashing to my face. If my face wasn't numb I would have been rolling in pain. A golden hand lifted me up by the arm. Horax stood in front of me in crisp, clean clothing. I pulled away from him and stumbled backwards.

"You!" I screamed. "You are vile and disgusting." I attempted to spit at his feet but the bubbly saliva just dribbled off my lip and onto my chin. My echoing calls brought the rest of the sanctuary back to the large room. The two initiates stood near the cooking pot. Babette stopped walking down the stairs and Cicero clung to the tiny bars in the arch overlooking the room.

Horax inched closer to me and attempted to stabilize me by my shoulders. "Leles, he was nobody to you. He doesn't matter."

I swatted his hands away. "Of course not. Nothing matters. Nothing matters but you."

I turned to my audience and raised my hands over my head.

"If Horax thirsty, Horax drink. If Horax Horny, Horax fuck. If Horax bored Horax, Kill." The members of the sanctuary gazed at me in awe. Horax stood in silence and scratched behind his pointed ear. I turned to him with narrowed eyes and wobbled forward. "If Horas, Horass."

The elf reached down and threw me over his shoulders. I screamed and pounded on his back. The initiates stared in horror and pressed themselves against the wall as their listener carried me down to the living quarters.

When Horax stopped, he set me down gently in his room. I squealed at him through my gurgling tears and slammed my tiny fists against his chest. He pushed me off of him and ruffled my hair before backing up out of the room and shutting it.

The door was green with moss and rough from forgotten age. It gave me splinters when I dragged my hands over it and screamed into the lock. I gazed around the room in rage, breathing heavily through my nostrils. I ran toward the bookshelf and knocked the ragged books to the floor. The mannequin in the corner glared at me in it's deep leather suit. It threw its masked head backward and let out a roar; The same hoarse laugh I heard from the prisoner.

"Stop it!" I screeched, ramming myself backward into the stone wall. I pressed my hands to my ears and watched as it's body changed. The perfect, muscular build of Fjorna, the rail thin Faendal, the gangly neglected body of Rolff- Stonefist.

The heckles continued, burning through my hands and ringing in my ears.

I ran to the mannequin. It's leather-gloved hands gripped my throat. I growled at it, I shook it, I pulled it from it's spot on the wooden crate until it came crashing down upon my body. The laughing stopped, leaving my alone in my pool of tears.

There was a reason why I wasn't a belligerent drunk.


	31. Home Sweet Home

**Chapter 31: Home Sweet Home**

The lack of shimmering light in the bedroom made me want to cry. I was sore, hungover, and in desperate need of cold, clean air. My face was swollen and my eyelids were puffy. I blinked a few times while I stared at the overhanging goat horn chandelier above me. Thick furs covered my bare body. Come to think of it, I didn't remember falling asleep in a bed.

"Sleeeep well?" A shrill voice asked. Every ounce of sleep in my body was shaken free as I gasped and drew the covers over my head.

"Oh, dear Cicero didn't mean to startle." I peeked over at the jester who layed his chin on the edge of the bed.

"The listener told me not to move from this very spot! All night faithful Cicero has been watching and waiting,"

I groaned and rubbed my face while Cicero continued to babble on. He was doing nothing to ease the pounding in my head.

"and listening for any whisper of distress."

"Well," I mumbled, removing the covers from my head. 'Thank you, uh, friend." I stuttered. Regardless, I received a glowing smile and celebratory hum.

I pushed myself up onto my bottom, tugging my blanket along with me. My nose picked up on the peasant smell of baked apple. Cicero watched as I braided my long hair which was surprisingly free of vomit.

"Is there food in here?" I asked enthusiastically.

The Imperial sprang to his feet and hopped to the table around the small corner of the room. He swung his arms back and forth with each bounce of his steps before grasping a small plate of what I assumed was my breakfast. At least Cicero was nice to me. I sighed to myself and wiped at my puffy eyes. Even if I was crying, I bet no tears would come out. Dead men didn't make for pleasant memories. If only alcohol could flush my thoughts out as well.

Cicero returned placing a silver plate in my lap. I eagerly accepted the spoon he held out. A mushy red apple sat in the center and a large sweet roll was hanging over the side. I scooted over on the bed and faced the jester.

"Would you-would you like to share breakfast with me?" I smiled at him and patted the space next to me. The man opened his mouth to squeal but I cut him off. "But you can't say anything through the meal." The man cocked his head and furrowed an eyebrow. I scratched my cheek and sighed. "Humming is fine."

Cicero crawled onto the bed and crossed his legs as he positioned himself across from me. The blankets on my chest slid down revealing the thin chest wrap covering my breasts. My cheeks were red as the keeper's hair before I pulled the covers up and tucked them under my armpits. I looked to Cicero who was munching away at his portion of the sweetroll. He unmistakably saw my chest but remained unchanged and continued his joyous hum, every now and then meeting my eyes and grinning till they were thin slits. Perhaps he... perhaps I have no idea how Cicero's mind worked.

By the end of breakfast my blankets had ruffled around my stomach and Cicero had eaten the whole of the sweetroll. I leaned back against the headboard and giggled as Cicero attempted to lick the icing off his nose in frustration. The jester crawled forward and rested his back against the head board. I rolled over to my side and reached out to scratch the red locks under his hat. What it needed was some jingly bells. I'm sure that would be much appreciated among the other members of the sanctuary. I took a liking to Cicero, similar to how I like a fluffy dog.

The two of us remained in peace. Cicero sat listening to my breathing pattern. I pretended I didn't notice. The door jingled, obviously being unlocked. A sudden qualm lurched in my stomach at the realization that I was locked in this room with a mad man all night.

Horax entered the room, immediately perking the keeper up from his rest. The listener held up his hand before Cicero could open his mouth.

"How are you this morning?" He asked quietly, not sure of what my reaction would be.

I didn't even know how I wanted to react. I was angry and disgusted, but the fire of hurt had sizzled out sometime during the night after trying to kill it with alcohol. Flames and alcohol, somehow it made sense in my mind.

" I'm Better." I lied, offering the elf a weak smile. He caught the falsehood immediately but remained silent and approached cautiously.

"Leave us, Cicero" He spoke in an eerily soft voice and sat himself on the foot of the bed.

My eyes followed the jester as he scurried to the door and shut it behind him. My gaze avoided Horax even though I felt his eyes trying to meet mine.

The elf shook my foot with a thin hand. "Leles."

My body sat stiff.

"Leles, I-It's just how the brotherhood works. We're so used to. You don't understand."

I flipped myself onto my side and pulled the pelts so tight around my head that I was nearly suffocating myself.

"Don't bother telling me something I already now." My voice muffled through the thick fur.

The elf dug his nails into the pelt and tugged it from my face. I held it tight through the numerous yanks.

"Stop!" I shouted, rolling my body over the edges of the blanket.

"Leles! Listen to me!" He pulled the thick brown pelts off of my back and watched as I lay still in my bedclothes.

"I don't want to." I whimpered with my face down against the mattress. "I don't want to understand."

"Look at me." Horax curved his hand around my shoulder. Without much thought, I rolled over. My eyes burned from swollen tear ducts.

"You hate me." He stated blankly. "I disgust you until you feel physically ill." I lay still and watched as his lips moved and contorted with every syllable. His lips, full and thick, were unusual for Altmer. My visioned blurred from burned membrane.

"But I cannot leave you." His cold hands encircled mine, caging them in his wide palms. "We are bound together by the will of the Daedra. They have given us purpose and without the other, we will fail."

I wrinkled my face at his statement. 17 years. 17 years and the entire purpose of my life was to fall into abyssal madness.

"No, Horax, No I can't" I closed my eyes and shook my head, my voice choking back a hard lump in my throat.

"Leles, you will. You can't run from fate."

17 years. 17 years that I have been told I control my destiny and now I was to give it up to fulfill my fate as Champion of Sheogorath. Every bone in my body was being ripped out one by one. My mind danced in flame, lapping at my spilling wounds.

I sobbed dry tears, screaming into my pillow in frustration that it eased no pan. Horax pulled me into his lap and held me against him, combing his fingers through my hair.

Slowly, I tossed my memories into a raging bonfire; my parents divorce, homeschooling on my grandparents farm, running through the forests of Dordogne. Reality was an illusion. None of it mattered anymore. None of it was real. I stood in a doorway, one foot in all I have ever known and the other in the all I will ever become. Slowly my once-life was fading to grey.

I was never going home. I was already there.

* * *

I awoke to chill air and rickety wheels, the clomp of hooves and the bump of a rock. My initial reaction was to shoot out of my seat and scream like a hell stranger at the familiar sound of the Helgen death cart before Horax swatted me back to the wooden bench of the carriage. My pulse raced as I eyed our surroundings. Thin flakes of snow fell from the sky, coating the pine needles and melting upon my skin.

"I don't remember..." I murmured, leaning over the edge of the cart on my knees and catching a few snowflakes on my tongue. My mouth was dry as horse hay.

"You were out for a few days." I gasped at Horax's statement. He tugged on my shirt and urged me to return to my seat

"I what?"

"You-you just crumpled and fell to the floor in convulsion. Right in my arms." His eyes were wide and staring into his palms. He glanced up and eyed my movements, documenting my breathing and the blinks of my eyes.

I slumped in my seat and rubbed my cheeks. Horax reached across the carriage and grabbed my hands.

"You're okay now? I was going to take you to the temple of Mara."

A new fur shawl draped over my body. I nuzzled my face into the soft hairs. "Riften?"

"Maybe we can clear our names. I have connections." Horax turned to the back of the carriage. Shadowmere's reigns were tied to a small handle on the step platform. Her red eyes illuminated the thin fog around her.

I stared at Horax for the rest of our ride. Something about him had changed. His large figure had shriveled in our carriage ride. He sat in his seat in paranoia, leaning over me while I rested and huddling around my body at the slightest shiver.

The two of us rode through the night in silence, entwined around each others bodies while Shadow mere gently snorted wisps of frost into the purple sky.


	32. Gemstones

**A/N:**

Gah! I'm getting so many lovely reviews! Special thanks to **_An Amber Pen_**,**_ Second Variety_**, and**_ Wrathanet_ **for the recent support and critique. I know there are sooo many more of you guys that do me the honor of reviewing, but those were the most recent. I'll do my best to implement the constructive criticism into my future writing.

Over 7,000 views! And I have no idea if that's a lot given that this is the first fanfiction I've ever stuck with, but it makes me squeal none-the -less. Many thanks! Enjoy and drop a review!

**Chapter 32: Gemstones**

Horax whined in the seat of the cart as glistening sunlight broke through the leaves of the small forest. A tiny brown bird followed the carriage before resting on a branch and hopping off into its small nest. Apple in mouth, I turned the page of a musty book the cart driver had let me read.

_A man says, "If you lie to me I will slay you with my sword. If you tell me the truth, I will slay you with a spell." What must you say to stay alive? _

I munched the apple and furrowed my eyebrows before making my way to the answer.

_You will slay me with a sword._

"Of course." I mumbled, as if I had known it all along.

"What's that?" The carriage driver called from his seat up front.

The Nord had not stopped talking to Horax and I since I had awoken from my extended slumber. In our time together, I had discovered that he had been previously married to his cousin ("accidentally," of course), survived his childhood in a house of 7 by stealing food from his neighbors dog, and was now devoted to a lifestyle of Dibellan practice. The latter was revealed in a conversation between the man and Horax when I was "taking a nap." Apparently he offered more services beside transport. Horax spent the rest of the cart ride as far away from the front of the carriage as possible.

"Nothing." I mumbled through a mouthful of crunchy apple flesh.

"Was it the one about the Bosmer?" He shouted as though I couldn't hear him over the trot of hooves on moist dirt.

"Umm, no."

"The Orc did it." the man revealed, spewing a black mouthful of saliva from his mouth and shoving a wad of dark loose leaves in his mouth. "You wanta know how I figure?"

"Nope." I closed the book and tossed the apple core over my shoulder.

I switched my position and slid into the bench across from mine. Horax was curled on the bench with his robes bunched over his head.

"Horax." I leaned over him and whispered into what I assumed was his ear.

The elf replied with muffled groans and flapped his hands at my chest to shoo me away.

"No." he protested. "Let me endure my torment in peace."

"What kind of torment would it be if I wasn't yapping in your ear?"

The elf peeked at me through an opening in his shield of fabric. "What?" He snapped.

"What day is it?"

"Ask the carriage driver." Horax drew his robes over his face once more.

"No" I whimpered, tugging at his arm. "He smells weird."

Horax lifted himself off his back and cracked his neck before peeling a layer of cloth off his face, wrapping it over his head, and tying it under his chin.

"Evening Star," He rubbed his eyes with his grimy hands. "The 18th or 19th?"

"Evening Star." I repeated quietly. "What's that? The first or second month of the year?"

The carriage driver turned to face us and scrunched his face in a puzzled look. I shot him a scowl and returned my stare to Horax.

"The last." Horax smiled.

I counted the months of the Gregorian calender on my finger. Panic spread throughout my body when I couldn't remember If September came before October. "Four!" I exclaimed finally. "It's been four months." I nestled against Horax's side and pressed my ear to his chest.

Horax turned his head as we passed a sign post.

"Can you move through Ivarstead?" he asked the carriage driver.

"Sorry, the horses gotta drink soon."

Horax sneered at the man who promptly faced forward and shuttered in his seat before whipping his reigns. The horses trotted faster. Shadowmere snorted and shook her dark mane.

"Ivarstead. We should stop in Ivarstead for a while. There's something you should see." I sat on my knees and gazed ahead to view the approaching town.

The elf cocked his head. "No, Leles. I don't want to see anything you have to show me."

* * *

The two of us stood dwarfed by the mountain before us. Clouds hung around it like a skirt, billowing out in ruffles. Wolves howled further up the mountain steps while wind whistled through the trees.

"Hey," I whispered. My voice drifted with the wind to Horax's pointed ears. "I think I'm going to the inn now. Good luck up there."

"Like Oblivion!" The elf shouted, whipping his head over his shoulder and snatching my wrist. "You convinced me to stop in Ivarstead. You're coming up with me."

I pushed my boots around in the dirt road before the bridge. The rushing river roared below us, spritzing cool mist into our face. Horax dragged me forward. I stumbled behind him reluctantly. The Throat of the World scraped the foggy sky above our head.

"Greybeards, you say?" He huffed, leading us forward towards the steps of the mountain.

"Greybeards, I said." I stomped my feet along the dirt trail. Frost gathered on the leaves of the snow berry bushes. My nose tickled from a chilly night breeze. "Don't expect me to go inside. I don't want to hear a word."

"Well, lucky for you it's the Dovahkiin they care about. Savior of Tamriel and what not. Not some scrawny string bean." Horax raced ahead of me. My legs, heavy and weighted from the thick boots, struggled to keep up. In the rush of racing over the smell steps, I tripped and face planted into a patch of dirty snow

"Well, what a surprise they'll be in for." I puffed along, picking at a twig in between my teeth.

* * *

Two packs of wolves and a frost troll later, the two of us stood gaping in awe at the foot of the ancient hall of the Greybeards. A violent storm swirled about the peak behind it. I took a step closer to the torches in between the twin staircases as Horax ran his hands over his smooth head.

"Go on." I urged him, taking a seat on the small ledge.

"Am I supposed to knock?" He questioned, picking at a loose thread on his robe.

I swayed in my seat next to the small fire and rubbed my hands over the flame. "Just go." I puffed.

The elf cocked his thin eyebrows and started up the left staircase. I sat in the whistling wind and pulled my fur hood over my flapping hair. After a few minutes, shrugging off the paranoia that someone was watching me, I peeked in the decorated urns and pulled out a four sparkling gemstones.

I plucked a ruby up and held it to the fire, red like like wine and the flow of blood. I turned my attention to the another gem. A black stone sat in the palm of my gloved hand. It twinkled against the night sky as I held it up in front of me. Starlight beamed off it and danced on its surface. The stone, onyx perhaps, stared at me like the beady eye of a rat. A sudden wave of unexpected nausea ran through my body. Through the thick of the falling snow, a burly figure slowly trotted toward the building. I gasped and slipped my hand into the urn once more, dropping the two gemstones with a soft clunk. My initial thought was that someone was making a pilgrimage but as I straightened my posture and waited for the figure to approach, it had disappeared. Dropping my gaze to my boots, I allowed my self to relax.

With a quick squint into the snowfall, I double checked that no traveler or snow troll was approaching and opened my hand that held the last two gemstones. A purple amethyst and orange topaz glimmered in my gloved palm. The two gems mirrored the torch and frolicked with the dancing fire. They laughed with the flames and taunted the darkness of the sky with their illumination. I squirmed in my seat and pulled the hood off my head. Beads of sweat collected on my brow.

Amethyst, Topaz, Ruby, Onyx. Purple, Orange, Black, Red.

I gazed in front of me and gasped, dropping the two gems to the floor. The figures I once saw continued through the thickening snow, lurching forward and dragging their bodies across the frozen terrain. My body shook as their faces became clear.

Purple, Orange. Black, Red.


End file.
